The Sum Of What We Do
by Zaabeth
Summary: Gilbert Beilschmidt is working as an intern at a hospital. One day he stumbles upon what looks like a nearly forgotten patient. A poor comatose Canadian who has no loved ones and seemingly no hope for recovery. Gilbert decided to stay and chat. It becomes a repeated thing.
1. Stumble

**A new little something by yours truly. And I think I might keep it going, too. Who knows. Let me know if it's any good.**

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A clipboard wielding orderly ducked out of the way as Gilbert rushed past, wide smile on his face.

"Holy- watch where you're going, Gil! This is a hospital!"

"Sorry. Being chased. You know how it is." Gilbert quickly side stepped another nurse, shooting a wink back towards the orderly, before twisting around and sprinting down the remainder of the hallway.

The orderly shook his head. "No, I don't..."

Gilbert laughed, turning around the far corner with a barely controlled skid. "Well then you're missing out, dude," he called back. Regaining his footing, he took a look at his options. Lots of doors, mostly closed, and another off-shooting hallway at the end.

Gilbert jogged a few steps, and then picked a door at random.

It closed behind him with a muffled click. Grinning, he ducked underneath the fogged rectangular window, pressing his ear against his newfound barrier. The sound of hurried footsteps and aggravated voices rose in volume, his pursuers approaching his hiding spot. Gilbert held his breath, striving for silence.

"-uck. Where'd he go?"

"Next hallway. C'mon."

"Fuckin' crazy albino..."

The footsteps and voices passed his door without hesitation, quickly fading in volume as they continued their useless pursuit.

Gilbert's smile widened. "Suckers."

Clutching his stolen prize – the brown paper-bagged lunch of one of his co-workers – he relaxed against the closed door. Now he could eat his (thieved) lunch in peace. No annoying do-gooders trying to dispose him of the fruits of his labour.

"Let's see what we have here..." Straightening his hospital scrubs, Gilbert stood up, peering into the paper bag. Its meagre contents stared back at him. A plastic-wrapped sandwich (probably peanut butter and jelly), a yogurt container, and an apple that had seen better days. Not the best lunch he'd ever stolen, but at least this time he hadn't got caught.

He reached into the bag for the apple, looking up to survey the room he had chosen at random. Maybe there'd be a chair or bed he could lounge on or something.

"Oh shit-" The bag almost fell from his grasp.

There was indeed a bed.

And it was occupied.

Gilbert bit back another curse, haphazardly fixing his scrubs. He could just see the slight form beneath the thin hospital covers, a head of wavy blond curls splayed against the white pillow. He couldn't see the patient's face, but they must have known by now he was in here, what with the abrupt entrance and all the noise he had made. Gilbert stood, waiting for a reaction. Should he duck back out without saying anything? Apologize? Apologizing seemed like a good start.

"Damn, sorry. I didn't know anyone was in here. I hope I didn't, uh, wake you or anything." He tried to school his face into an appropriately sincere expression.

When his apology was met by silence, Gilbert gave up the futile attempt and allowed himself to grimace.

"Look, I work here, okay. I'm sorry if I disturbed you but... um, do you like want me to get ya' anything..." Only the quiet beeping of machines answered him. "No? Awesome. I'll just leave then."

It was when he turned around, intent on finding a properly empty room to eat his lunch, that something clicked in his mind. The slow - too slow - beeps from the heart monitor, the quiet, stagnant silence from the patient, the small clutter of other life-sustaining machines around the bed.

Gilbert turned back towards the room, hesitating only a moment before stepping up to the bed.

The patient was asleep. But Gilbert could tell it wasn't a natural one. That much was easy to tell from the face – thin and pale with a cylindrical ventilator passing through ashen lips and a set of those nasal tubes wrapping over too-visible cheek bones. Before really thinking about it, Gilbert had snatched the charts from the foot of the bed, eyes skimming the papers, numbers confirming his suspicion. The man, probably a couple years younger than him, was verging on two months comatose.

And the prognosis was that he'd likely never wake up again.

Gilbert scowled, shoving the papers back into their holder.

"That sucks man. Comas are totally unawesome."

He stood next to the bed, looking around the room, feeling a little put-out. Eventually he remembered the bag in his hands, and the lunch he had been about to eat. A glance to the clock on the wall opposite from the bed showed that he still had twenty minutes left to his lunch break.

"Hey man, mind if I crash here to eat my grub?"

The soft whirring of machines answered him.

"Awesome. You're the best."

Gilbert dragged an abandoned looking chair near the bed frame, sprawling in it bonelessly as he took a large bite from the apple.

He was halfway through the soggy sandwich (it indeed was peanut butter and jelly) when his eyes travelled back to the comatose man. There was something about the blond patient that seemed a little off. Gilbert had worked with other unconscious patients during his internship at the hospital, and more often than not, their rooms were bright and peppered with get-well-soon gifts, an anxious loved one or two worrying around their bed-sides.

This man had no gifts, and the room was oddly listless. There wasn't a single indication that a friend or family member had been in the area in a long time. No flowers, no brightly coloured cards, no books or magazines. Nothing. Gilbert frowned.

"What's up with you, bro?" He popped the last bite of peanut-buttery bread into his mouth. "Where are your people? Are you some kinda asshole in real life or something? Chase them all away?"

He leaned forwards in his seat, peering down on the man. The pale, sunken face met his gaze, blond, wavy hair haloing its features. It looked young, innocent, and although there were the shadows of bruises hiding around the hairline, the man – still almost a boy – seemed like someone who would be a gentle, quiet being.

"Hmm, 'naw. You don't look like an asshole-y dude. You're probably one of 'em stuttering types, amirite?"

Gilbert sat back with a huff, giving another unimpressed look around the stark room. "If that's so, then why are you all alone her?" he continued out loud. "Shouldn't you have, I dunno, a doting mother or crying girlfriend or hell, a bro or two around you?" The stagnant silence felt heavy as he quieted. Gilbert frowned. After a moment of hesitation, he grabbed at the hospital papers again. "What put ya' in here, anyway? Maybe your people are... I don't know, comatose too." He immediately looked for the Chief Complaint section. "Whoa man, car accident? That totally sucks. And let's see here... Family history-" Gilbert stopped short, looking briefly over to the patient. "Hey bro, you don't mind that I'm looking at your medical charts, right? I'm a nurse, so it's cool." He hummed at the silence, nodding his head after moment. "Thanks. Right, so, family history..."

The next few seconds were taken up by the shuffle of papers and the beeping of the heart monitor. Finally, Gilbert grimaced.

"Well you got a mum and dad who are registered as still alive, and a brother who must be near your age, however old you are- oh wait." Gilbert flipped the page. "Oh, you're twenty-four. Okay, a brother who is maybe older than you, maybe younger, since he's also twenty-four... Is he your twin? Twins are cool. Let's say you're twins. And he's alive, too. Healthy family. Could'a been better if you'd had a hot older sister, but whatever." Gilbert stuffed the papers back in their place, leaning back in his seat, looking at the blond man. "So you've got a mother, father, twin brother, and probably a friend or two, and let's add in a dog for the hell of it. Oh, and you're not an asshole. Probably. So where the hell is your party of worriers? You were in a fucking car accident. Where's the de-facto loved one holding your hand and all that shit?"

Gilbert huffed, feeling strangely insulted for this stranger. It was true that he disliked dealing with weepy family members as much as the next guy, but damn, everybody's got to have somebody there to cry with you went you get hurt.

And hell, if the prognosis was that you'd likely never wake up, then someone better fucking be there to cry _for_ you.

Gilbert closed his eyes. He wondered what the hell he was doing here.

After a moment, his eyes opened.

"Oh yeah, lunch..."

A glance to the clock had him out of his chair and at the door in record time. "Shit- sorry bro, but I'm way late. It's been great, really enjoyed your company, see ya' around maybe." He tossed one last grin into the near-empty room, pushing his earlier thoughts aside.

He got back to the main lobby and slid behind the welcome desk, hoping his late entrance would go unnoticed.

"Gilbert-"

His hope was in vain.

"- you bastard. I hope you liked that lunch..."


	2. Search

**Hey, I'm back. Another chapter for you all. And how am I doing with Gilbert? He's kind of a new one for me. Let me know what you think.**

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"How do I not even know his fucking name!?"

Gilbert paced frustratedly down the hall. He thought it might be the right one. But he really wasn't certain. And the small rectangular name plaques weren't helping any, especially when Gilbert finally accepted the fact that he never actually learned his comatose lunch buddy's name.

"I just wanted to pop in and say hi. Why does it have to be so damn hard to find you!"

Gilbert stopped in front of a random door, the name plaque appearing to be empty. But at this hospital, that didn't really mean much. Only longer term patients got permanent rooms, and Gilbert didn't even know if the coma-guy qualified yet. Grimacing, he grasped the door's handle and opened it.

An empty room met his displeased gaze.

"Damn. Wrong again."

It was the third empty room he had looked at. He had also stumbled upon two private recovery rooms and one occupied double. Gilbert sighed and closed the door.

"Lonely coma dude, where are you?" he breathed under his voice in a slight sing-song. "I only have five minutes left of breeeaaak-"

"Bruder, what are you doing?"

Gilbert whipped around in surprise, words dying on his tongue. A tall, stern looking man faced him, one eyebrow marginally raised.

It was Ludwig, Gilbert's younger and considerably more accomplished brother. Gilbert rolled his eyes at the other man's unimpressed expression and crossed his arms in front of his chest. Ludwig was a doctor at the hospital and likely the only reason why Gilbert was even offered his admittedly half-assed internship. Raising an eyebrow of his own, Gilbert set his face into a grin.

"I'm singing, duh. What does it sound like I'm doing?"

Ludwig didn't even blink. "No, I mean what are you doing _here_?" He gestured to the door Gilbert had just previously closed in disappointment. "I don't know what you're playing at, but I've been getting complaints."

"Complaints?"

"Yes Gilbert, complaints." Ludwig sighed, running a hand through his short blond hair. "Wandering around opening random doors? You might find it hard to believe, but people – especially people in hospitals – don't appreciate being barged in on without an explanation."

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "I'm doing nurse things." He waved his hand in a vague demonstration of said nurse things. "They should appreciate my work."

"Bruder..."

"_Yes_..." Gilbert drew out the word just as Ludwig had done.

Ludwig stared at him apathetically for a few moments before turning around. "Just _try_ to act like an adult every once and a while, okay?" His steps were clipped and measured as they walked away. "Your break is nearly over. You should get back to your station."

Gilbert watched his brother's retreating back with a frown. "Well aren't you just full of lollipops and rainbows," he muttered, loud enough for Ludwig to hear him. When he garnered no reply, Gilbert stuck out his tongue like the mature adult he most certainly was and then turned away.

He had walked only a few steps in the direction opposite of his work station when he was struck by an idea.

"Whoa, Luddy, wait!" he called over his shoulder as he turned back around, hoping his brother hadn't left the immediate area. "I've got a question for ya'!"

He was rewarded by Ludwig's form stopping at the end of the hall. Gilbert could easily see the displeased look despite the distance, and as he jogged closer the glare just increased in intensity.

"Hey, whoa, no need to look like something crawled up your ass and died. I just wanna ask you somethin'."

"Gilbert, please don't yell in the hospital." Ludwig kept the stern look a moment longer before relenting. "What do you want?"

Gilbert grinned, pleased with himself for thinking of this. "Do you have any comatose patients in this section of the hospital?"

"Comatose patients...?" Ludwig blinked, his rough demeanour slipping, the question not likely what he was expecting from Gilbert. "Yes. We have quite a few actually."

"Do you have any that are blond dudes?"

"Gilbert, why are you asking this?"

Gilbert raised his hands as of to ward off Ludwig's question. "Just- do you? Are there any guys about your age that are in a coma around here? Skinny. Blond. A little girly looking? Um, probably not a lot visitors most of the time."

Ludwig's features seemed to clear up with the last couple of indicators, but then immediately closed off at Gilbert's expectant look. It was instead replaced by an expression of suspicion.

Gilbert huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "What? Why are you looking at me like that? I've done nothing wrong."

Ludwig didn't look convinced. "Knowing you... Gilbert, you know you can't just-"

"Oh come on, I already told you I'm not doing anything." Gilbert rolled his eyes exasperatedly. "And you know who I'm talking about, don't ya'?. That little blondie who was in the car accident or something. He's around here, isn't he?"

Ludwig held Gilbert's gaze a moment longer before finally looking away. "Yes. He is."

"Finally! So where is he? What's his name?"

Ludwig frowned briefly. "I think... I think his name was- is Matthew." He then focused his eyes in Gilbert. "He slipped into a GCS 3 after his surgery a couple months back, if I remember correctly. Next to no chance of recovery." There was a small pause of regret, but then Ludwig's gaze sharpened. "I don't know what you want with him, but Gilbert, just leave the boy alone."

"Hey, lay off man." Gilbert's hands came up in a semi-defensive posture. "I don't actually want anything, really. Just wanna know where the dude is."

Ludwig opened his mouth, looking as if he was going to question Gilbert once again, but then stopped short. He took in Gilbert's perfectly earnest expression, a touch of exasperation hinting around the eyes at his constant reprimands, and came to the conclusion that for once, Gilbert was just genuinely curious. Ludwig sighed loudly.

"I'll check my reports for his room and then get back to you on that, okay?" Ludwig pursued his lips to hide his smile at Gilbert's honest surprise.

"Huh. You're really gonna tell me, just like that?" The surprise morphed into a weird kind of smile. "Thanks Luddy, that's awesome of you."

Ludwig let out a brief snort at being called awesome and went to turn away. "Good. Now really, you need to get back to work. I don't even want to know how late you are now."

Gilbert laughed. "Pshh, it's only like 10 minutes, I think. There's been worse." He watched his brother continue to walk away, shaking his head slightly.

"I don't want to hear about it," Ludwig said without turning around. "I'll send you an email when I get your information."

"Texting's better!" Gilbert called to the retreating form.

"No cell-phones at work, Gilbert."

Gilbert pouted as Ludwig turned the corner, but allowed the grin to return as he started to head back to his work station. Mission successful. Or at least partially successful. Hopefully by the end of his shift, he would have the room number and the guy's full name and would be able to finally visit him again. Gilbert blinked, realizing he actually had a name he could use now. If Ludwig was right, that is.

"Matthew huh? A bit plain, but I bet it fits ya'."

Gilbert turned at the main lobby, heading off towards prescription meds. Probably one of the most boring jobs he could be saddled with, except for maybe clean up duty. He sighed as he slipped through the employee only door.

"Late again, Gilbert."

Gilbert let out a perfectly audible groan as he sat down. "Oh shut, Leonard."

"There's no reason to be late." The short, ratty looking man raised his chin defiantly. "I'm here on time every day. You really need to start picking up slack."

"I said shut it. You're just pissed I took your lunch the other day."

"No I'm not." A pause, and then, "And I had _wanted_ to eat that."

"It was a soggy sandwich. I did ya' good taking it away from you. Looks like you _need_ to miss a few lunches."

Leonard's face puffed up red and blotchy, but Gilbert found that he wasn't taking as much amusement from pissing off his co-worker as he usually would. Ignoring the rounder man's stuttering insults, he turned his back on him, moving to the side-by-side seats with matching computers. In front of him was the prescription medicine help desk, waiting for the poor suckers who needed to sign off for their medication. Gilbert sat down with a huff.

Eventually Leonard dropped down beside him, pointedly not looking at him. Not that Gilbert cared. Instead he busied himself with checking his staff email.

There was a stack of unread messages, but not the note Gilbert wanted.

"Too early, anyways," he muttered to himself, knowing Ludwig wouldn't bother with Gilbert's request until at least mid-afternoon.

With that in mind, Gilbert slouched down in his seat, wondering if he could perhaps steal a nap or two to make the day go by faster.

"Gilbert- Gilbert you asshole, don't you dare go to sleep on me! There are patients coming."

Gilbert hid his grin and kept his eyes closed.

-x-x-x-

The day was almost over. At least, for Gilbert it was. Ludwig likely had another three or so hours in his shift.

"But at least the bastard got me that coma-guy's info."

Leonard looked over from where he was zipping up his sewer-green backpack. "What?"

Gilbert waved a dismissing hand in his co-worker's direction, not even bothering to turn around. "Nothing. Talkin' to myself."

"Hmph, okay." The man left without so much as a 'see you tomorrow'. Gilbert didn't notice, too busy absorbing the meagre information Ludwig had managed to find on this Matthew guy. A photocopied image of Ludwig's neat writing from his own personal notes was open on his computer.

Name: Matthew Williams  
Date of Birth: 01/07/1989  
Chief Complaint: Severe Car Accident  
Condition: Comatose  
Room: 2053

The word Comatose had been recently scratched out and replaced with Persistent Vegetative State. Gilbert gave the correction a brief frown, but saved the image to his files.

"There we go, buddy. Found ya'." Gilbert took one last look at the room number before closing the browser. "Guess this means I'll be able to come say hi tomorrow now, doesn't it."

And with that he turned off the computer and left the room, silently congratulating himself on actually remembering to lock the door this time.


	3. Situation

**Hey there you people. Thanks for the awesome response from last chapter. I'm glad that it seems like I'm writing Gilbert pretty well. Hopefully I can keep it up. A bit of a heavy chapter, but apparently it's more difficult to write one-sided conversations than I had originally thought. Who knew.**

**On a side note, as many of you probably deduced from the first two chapters, this fic is set in a hospital. So there's going to be hospital terms. Which I'm going to mess up royally. Because I'm not a doctor. So I'm apologizing here and now for any and every misused term or ideology that will happen over the course of the next few chapters. If you happen to see a glaring mistake, please do correct me. I'd really appreciate it.**

**What you might need to know for now: Glasgow Coma Scale. Basically rates the severity of a person's conscious state. Goes from three to fifteen. I think.**

**Okay, long author's note is long. I'm sorry. But it was kind of important. Kind of. Now off you go. Read. Review. (Please.)**

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The door to room 2053 opened silently, just like the last time Gilbert had entered through it. This time however, he wasn't throwing it aside in a rush, immediately ducking in and out of sight with stolen goods. Instead, he walked in with typical composure, door closing behind him with a soft click.

He was pleased to find that it was indeed the room he had been searching for. There was just no mistaking how barren and impersonal it was, despite the bed's noticeable occupancy. Like last time, not a single item – other than a haphazardly placed chair, courtesy of Gilbert – showed any signs of recent visitors. He could understand now why he had first thought it empty those few days ago. Remove the too-still man from the confines of the hospital bed and you would get a room just like many others in this hospital: empty and lifeless. Shaking off the slight melancholy, Gilbert schooled his face into a grin.

"Hey coma-bro," he said sociably as he approached the bed, grabbing the abandoned chair from his last visit and pulling it with him. "It's been a little while. How's it hanging?"

Gilbert cast his gaze over the readouts on the clutter of life-support machines, most of it indiscernible to him. It still looked as if they were all doing their assigned tasks, though, which Gilbert considered a sufficient start. "As good as you can be, given the circumstances, right?" He huffed out a little laugh and slouched further in his seat, reaching into the wide pockets of his hospital scrubs for the pear he had offhandedly decided to bring.

"So," he said, biting into the almost-soft fruit. "Matthew Williams, huh? Good name, I guess. A little posh, but yo, it's nice to officially know who you are." He nudged the bed railings as way of greeting. "I'm Gilbert Beilshmidt, by the way. The most awesome man you'll ever meet. Not that you'll likely remember that if you... you know, wake up." Gilbert grimaced, swallowing his piece of pear.

"But whatever. Being awake if overrated, if you ask me," he continued, keeping his voice light. "I mean, you would probably disagree with me, but hey, to each his, uh, own. That's what they say, right?" Gilbert rolled his eyes and took another bite of pear. "Anywho, I love sleeping. Would do it all day, if I could. But I can't, 'cause I got this crappy job and neurotic little brother who's on my case every fucking day. I kid you not. He's a real stick in the mud. Can't even skip one day with him. Do that and apparently the world would end."

Gilbert kicked back and looked for some place to prop up his feet. Finally settling on this little beside table, he slid into a slouch and rested his head against the back of the chair.

"So, Matthew." Gilbert smirked at the name, glad to have something better to identify the patient beside him other than coma-dude. "People ever give you any nick-names? 'Cause I know I sure would. Can't go around always calling you _Matthew_. That's two whole syllables that I'll never get back each and every time I talk about ya'. I mean, I know my name's Gilbert – which is totally and completely awesome – but even I've got people calling me Gil here and there." He allowed his head to tilt to the side, looking over to where Matthew rested. "Hell, you'd probably call me Gil if, you know, you wake up and actually get to know me. But yeah, that's me. What about you? Nick-names?"

Gilbert hummed for a moment, contemplating. He then peered at the man beside him.

"Yeah, I'm totally getting a Mattie kind of vibe from you. Which, I mean, is still two syllables, but it rolls off the tongue better. Mattie. Matt–y. Matt… _eee_. Or you know, Matt. But that's a little, uh… curt? Yeah, curt, short, boring." He waved a hand through the air in an offhanded manner, looking back up towards the ceiling. "Really, the best thing you could do right now is just wake up and tell me what most people call you. 'Cause I'm just gonna keep throwing around ideas like this until I find one I like. Right now I'm thinking Mattie, but that's totally up for a change if something better comes along."

In the brief silence that followed, Gilbert's eyes were drawn back to the subject of his one-sided conversation. At the sight of the comatose man, hooked up in various places with tubes and IV drips, Gilbert found himself remembering the prognosis he had gotten from his brother the other day. A small frown creased his brow, the limited knowledge gleaned from rarely-attended classes letting him know that none of what it had said was good.

"So… uh, you're really toeing the line here, Mattie. And by line, I mean that some people – not me, but some people – think you're already dead. Like the whole 'lights are on but nobody's home' thing. Except that you don't even have the lights going for ya'. So yeah, you see the issue, right? It's not good."

Gilbert exhaled harshly through his nose, grimacing a bit at his words. Looking appraisingly at his near-finished pear, he took one last bite before twisting around and placing his legs back on the group.

"And not to get ya' down or anything," he said to the silence, "but my bro says your situation is kinda bleak. Apparently a low score on this coma scale thing is a pretty bad sign." He made a face his words. "And dude, you scored the lowest you could possibly get. A sad little three out of, I dunno, fifteen or something."

Gilbert sighed, first looking at the bed's occupant, and then shifting his gaze to the closed window. The finished pear core found its way to the table beside the bed.

"Now I'm not here to get on your case about low scores or anything - 'cause man, believe me, I'm pretty suck-ass on tests too - but just so ya' know, you're basically classified as a vegetable." He paused in the silence of the room, the whirring of machines backing his statement. "Which totally sucks," he added after a moment. "But, you know, I just thought you'd like to have a handle on that... on your, uh, situation. Or something. That is, if you can hear me. And understand. Which I don't know. I'm not really good with these doctor-things..."

Gilbert let out an odd kind of laugh, drawing a hand through his short, almost-white hair. "Yeah, I know. Totally chose the right profession here, didn't I?" He crossed his legs at the ankles, titling his head back to look once again at the ceiling. "A nurse? Basically a mini-doctor... Awesome choice, Gil. Because you _totally_ have the work ethic and personality to be one. God..."

Gilbert's eyes shifted over to Matthew, almost as if awaiting a response. When nothing came, his lips twitched into a small smile. "It was my brother, you know. The reason why I rolled with the whole nurse thing. He's a doctor actually, and a damn good one too. And I thought... I don't know. I guess I thought hey, he's already gone through all that - already done all the work - so why not just piggy back off of it. Hell, I knew I couldn't EVER pull off doctor. Fuck no. But I figured I could coast through nursing... maybe just resubmit all his essays and thesis? Convince him to do my work for me... It'd be easy, right? Hah. No. It wasn't."

Gilbert cast his gaze over to the clock on the wall, watching as his fifteen minute break continued to tick away. The silence of the room seemed to lure him into continuing.

"It wasn't easy at all. Still isn't, goddamn it. I've practically failed most of my classes. And the only thing Ludwig – my brother – ever helped with was this intern-thing. The cheap bastard. I'm thinking of dropping it all together, ya' know. Screw college, right?"

Gilbert looked over to Matthew. The patient was as silent and unmoving as ever, and Gilbert found himself feeling a bit gloomy at his situation. He wondered again, like last time, why he was here. Why he had made it his mission to find out who this comatose man was. Why he had felt compelled to come back and visit him a second time. Why he was sitting here blabbing uselessly about his life choices.

But Gilbert wouldn't deny that he liked to think that Matthew could hear him. That's what those doctors say in those movies and TV shows, right. That comatose patients are aware enough to retain the ability to hear. That talking to them helps their recovery process. Gilbert found himself wondering how many people had been talking to Matthew in order to help his healing. By the looks of it, not many. Gilbert supposed in that case, if anything, he was doing good on his job as nurse and helping a patient in need.

Rolling his eyes at his newfound responsibility, Gilbert shifted in his seat, propping up his chin on one hand. He tried to recapture some of his earlier nonchalance. "So then, Matteo– oh, that's a good one too. Matt-e-o. I like it." He grinned and shook his head. "Anyways, Matteo. I told ya' about my bro. How 'bout you, man? You got a brother, right? The one I read about in your family history. How's he? Is he a douche too?"

He gave himself a moment before continuing.

"Yeah, you know, you don't really strike me as the kind of dude who'd bad mouth his bro even if he was a dick." He huffed out a little laugh. "You'd be all like 'he's not thaaat bad' or somethin'. Right? But your brother, I mean, your whole family really, but especially your brother, he should be here. And he ain't. So that makes him a douche, at least in my books. Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong."

He propped himself up a little further, leaning in to get a better look of the bed's occupant. "Oh right, and we were going with the whole twin thing, weren't we? So that's even more points against your bro. I mean, c'mon, your twin brother is hospitalized, and you're nowhere in sight. God. Get yo' ass over here and be with him." Gilbert shrugged noncommittally. "So yeah, he's totally an asshole. Hell, my brother and I are like, complete opposites, but I'd totally be there for him if he was down for the count. It's like the bro-code or something."

With a casual shift to his center of gravity, Gilbert leaned back, chair skidding slightly on the smooth floor.

"Damn, now I'm feeling all righteous and shit. Captain awesome, at your service. Heh." He rolled his eyes and slumped in his chair, arms coming to cross in front of his chest. Despite his attempts to ignore it, Gilbert once again became aware of the clock on the far wall. He was late. Not that he mattered too much, but that coupled with the fact that he didn't really have much else to say to Matthew today led him to the decision it was probably time for him to leave. He was feeling drained of conversation, anyway.

"Well, mister Matthew, it had been a right pleasure talking to ya', but I gotta be going." Pushing himself up off his seat, Gilbert stood with exaggerated flair. "Like the good worker I am, it is my duty to return to my job." He allowed himself to glance over to the clock as he made his way to the door. "Eight minutes late. Excellent."

The door opened with a smooth kind of silence. Gilbert took one last pause to nod back in the direction of Matthew's bed. "See you tomorrow, maybe. Or the next day. Who knows. I'll be around."

And with that, he stepped smoothly through the door, closing it firmly behind him. The uncrowded halls were for the most part silent as he made his way back to his station.


	4. Skip

**So that OC co-worker from before makes another appearance. Wasn't really my plan to keep him around, but Gilbert needed someone to heckle in the beginning of this chapter. Welp.**

* * *

Gilbert propped his legs up on his co-worker's recently vacated chair. His shift was nearing its end and Gilbert was absolutely and undeniably bored.

"Yo, Leonard. You can cover me for the last fifteen minutes, right?"

The smaller man turned around from where he was sorting some patient's medical history, scowl already on his face.

"What? No. And it's half an hour until we're off, dumbass." His frown deepened as he spotted Gilbert's shoes on his chair. "And get your damn feet off my seat. Why the hell do you want to get off this early, anyway?"

Gilbert stuck his tongue out and didn't move his feet an inch. "'Cause I'm awesome, that's why."

"Yeah, right. No. And feet off. Now."

"No can do," Gilbert replied with a mock pout. "They seem to be stuck there. Maybe if _someone_ were to cover for me, I could find a way to move them..."

Leonard closed his eyes. "God, you're so insufferable." Turning back, he shoved the file cabinet closed before marching over to where Gilbert lounged, pushing his legs off his chair with a look of disgust. "I can't believe you're an honest-to-god adult. Can't you be serious about _anything_?"

"Hey man, no need to get all upset," Gilbert chided. "And I am serious. About the getting off early thing. So c'mon, help a guy in need."

Leonard wasn't convinced in the slightest. "Not happening, Gilbert. Stop being a lazy ass for once and actually work until your shift is done."

"Ah, but that requires effort."

"A little effort every now and then wouldn't kill you."

"It might."

Leonard sighed, clearly wishing to be finished with this conversation. "Just shut up and do something productive."

Gilbert grinned. "Who needs productivity when you've got awesomely good looks like me." He readjusted his position, leaning back in his seat and pulling his legs in towards him, ignoring Leonard's unattractive snort of disbelief. "But hey, whatever works for you. I mean with that face, you'll need all the help you can get."

Leonard's expression darkened, face turning puffy and red, which only served to make Gilbert smirk even more. After a moment of clearly restrained anger, the smaller man gave up on glaring down at the albino and turned away, dropping down in his now-free seat with a snarl. "Yeah, well fuck you too, freak."

Gilbert rolled his eyes, leaning towards the front desk and propping himself up on his elbows. "Now now, that's no way to talk to your co-worker," he said in a staged-hurt voice. "Just some friendly banter and whatnot. Nothing _serious_."

"I do not do _friendly_ banter with _you_," Leonard gritted out, not turning around.

Gilbert yawned. "Hah, well, I can tell that much. Your comebacks suck. That's why I want to get out early. Go and have some _real_ conversation... well, kinda."

Despite his obvious reluctance, Leonard raised an eyebrow in Gilbert's direction. "What?" he asked after a moment.

Gilbert shrugged indifferently. "Nothing. Just wanted to go talk to someone. We have good conversations... I think. Actually I dunno. We talk. Well I talk. He doesn't really talk. He listens, maybe. Seems like a good conversation to me."

"Uh huh..." The other man blinked, sounding skeptical. "Right... Weird."

Gilbert pulled a face at Leonard but didn't contradict him. Instead he let the conversation drop and slouched lazily in his seat. After a minute or two, he started busying himself with balancing his chair on two legs, watching the clock off to the side as it slowly ticked down the remainder of his shift. The lobby in front of them was nearly empty, and both men knew full well that the welcome desk they were working wouldn't get any more visitors this late in the day.

Surprisingly, it was Leonard who spoke up again.

"So, just for the record of your weirdness, _who_ exactly do you go talk... at?"

Gilbert let his chair clatter back onto four legs, crossing his arms behind his head as he peered sideways at his co-worker. "Just some dude I hang out with here, kinda. Sometimes. Well it's only been twice, but whatever." He shrugged before deciding to say a bit more. "I had _wanted_ to go chat before my shift ended, 'cause I need catch a bus afterwards, but _someone_ wouldn't let me." He shot a meaningful glare towards Leonard, but quickly let it go with another roll of his eyes.

"Hm, right." Leonard shook his head and turned back away from the other man. "Whatever. Still seems weird. And we're done in a few minutes anyways so shut up."

Gilbert scowled at the other man, but it was without any real venom. "Yeah, well I'm barely gonna have time to even say 'hi' if I wanna catch my normal bus. So thanks."

"I stopped you from skipping out on your own job. You're welcome, dickhead."

Gilbert blew a raspberry at his unimpressed co-worker before proceeding to ignore him for the remainder of his shift. At five minutes to the hour, he pushed himself up out of his chair with exaggerated flair and turned on his heal towards the room's side door.

"All right. I'm out, sucka'. See ya' whenever."

Leonard startled up from where he had been leaning over some old newspaper. "Hey wait. You still got to help with closing up. Don't leave now, you assho-"

"Sorry, can't hear you!" Gilbert cut in over the other's complaints, backing out of the door with a quick step and plastered on grin. Not wanting to give Leonard a chance to drag him back in, he turned quickly and crossed the lobby, heading to the nearest staircase. On floor two, Gilbert got his bearings and then navigated to the now somewhat-familiar hallway.

Reaching his destination, Gilbert slipped into the room behind door 2053.

"Hey bro, can't stay too long, but thought I'd come say hi since it's been a couple days." Gilbert padded up to the bed, the room darker than usually due to the late hour. The window across from Gilbert showed a glimpse of the night sky. Gilbert hummed noncommittally.

"Oh hey," he said, turning back and finally getting a good look at Matthew. "You're in a different position. Look at you, on your side and everything. Good job, bro." He leaned against the wall next to the bed, crouching down slightly to get a better look in the dim light. Matthew, despite his new position, was still utterly asleep, not responding in the slightest when Gilbert reached out and hesitantly poked his shoulder. "Hmm. Still unconscious. But you did move, didn't you?" He straightened up again. "Or maybe you were moved by somebody else? Is that a possibility? Are coma patients supposed to be moved?"

Gilbert shrugged at his own question, giving Matthew a pointless smile before rocking back on his heels. "Well either way, good for you. If you moved by yourself, that's awesome dude, keep up the good work. If not, well, you're doing great at just the staying alive thing, which is good too. So yeah, two thumbs up, Mattie." Gilbert grinned, actually giving the comatose man two thumbs up before reaching down offering a brief congratulatory pat on the shoulder.

It was then that he noticed the way the nasal tubes were pulling tight across Matthew's face, his new position turning him away from the machine they were attached to. Gilbert frowned, pausing with his hand hovering just above the other man. "Uh, that doesn't look too comfortable. You probably don't like that, do you?" He hesitated only a moment before stepping around the bed and approaching the small pump-like machine the tubes ran into. "I'll just move this thing..." He grimaced uncertainly. "... right over here. Yeah. Good." The tubes slackened as the machine rolled to a stop next to the bed. "There, that's better, isn't it?" Gilbert clasped his hands together and returned to his usual side of the bed. Matthew hadn't moved at all, and his face was still blank in unconsciousness, but Gilbert found himself picturing a feeling of relief coming from the younger man. "Yep. Much better. Captain Awesome, at your service once again."

In the silence that followed, he contemplated sitting down in his usual chair, but figured there would be little point. He truly did have to leave in a minute, and sitting down only to get right back up again would be a needless waste of effort. Instead he propped himself up back against the wall, glancing around the dimly-lit room.

Noting the lighting, his eyes tracked over to the slider light-switch, which had obviously been turned down for the night.

"So someone obviously came in here to turn down the lights," he mused sociably to the quietly beeping machines. It gave him a small measure of comfort to see proof that there was at least some person other than him looking out for Matthew around here. "Which means that you're not like some forgotten ghost in here. Which is good. But I'm gonna guess that it was a nurse or orderly person that did it, right?" Gilbert shook his head. "Yeah, probably. I mean they gotta have some sort of gang set up to take care of all the coma dudes and dudettes 'round here. That's a thing they do in hospitals, I think. So it's not like you're _completely_ alone. You got… people."

Gilbert paused, a sigh escaping his lips. He knew his logic wasn't covering the fact that Matthew still didn't have family or friends who routinely visited him. "Yeah, okay. I know. Your people aren't the right people. But I'm trying here. A little positivity can never hurt." Gilbert took a breath, pausing for a brief moment before plastering a wide grin on his face. "And hell, you got me too. Which is a whole truck-load of positivity and awesomeness. So you're doing fine, Mattie. More than fine, even. You're doing awesome."

Laughing a little, Gilbert shot a look over the clock, a small frown overtaking his face at the time. "Oh, damn, seems like that's it for today- well, tonight I guess. Told ya' I was only here for a bit." He shrugged in the silence, moving away from the comatose figure. "Got to go catch my ride home, 'kay? Sorry I couldn't stay longer. But hey," he added as an afterthought, nearly at the door. "Maybe you'll have moved again by the next time I show up. That'd be awesome." He nodded at the thought. "Yeah, so just keep on... keeping on, I guess. I'll try to stay longer next time, too." Gilbert smiled one last time at the bed in the room before stepping out and closing the door behind him.

He opted once again for the stairs, finding them far faster than the slow moving elevators of the hospital. Taking them two at a time, he skidded to a stop at the bottom, pulling open the heavy stairwell door and passing through the sparsely populated lobby.

It was cold outside without a jacket, and Gilbert grimaced when he realized that he would have to start dressing warmer as November progressed into its final couple of weeks. "Damn Ohio temperatures. Why couldn't you be more like Florida, or hell, even Texas." Luckily he had, for once, timed things well. Just as he approached the bench at his stop, he saw the bus turn the corner at the far end of the street. "Awesome," he muttered to himself, dodging around the stop's two other occupants in order to be the first on the bus. "Home sweet home, here we come."


	5. Slipping

**And I'm back. With more Matthew in this chapter (kind of).**

**So remember when I told you that I don't really know hospitals or medical equipment all that well? Yeah, that's probably going to become apparent in this chapter. I tried my best, though (and luckily Gilbert doesn't need to be an expert in life-support machines) but I still probably messed up somewhere. Welp.**

**Please let me know how I did! Feedback is always awesome. Thank you for reading!**

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Gilbert scanned the sheet of paper in his hands, still warm from the printer in the prescription medicines' office. Most of what it contained flew right over his head, but Gilbert wondered if perhaps he stared at it long enough, he could force it to give up its secrets.

"C'mon you stupid paper. This can't be _that_ hard to understand." He turned the corner at the end of the hall, apathetically oblivious to the hospital-goers jumping out of the way to avoid colliding with him. Ignoring their complaints of "watch where you're going!" he continued blithely down the hallway. "Seriously, it's just a bunch of little device things that keep a heart beating or whatever."

He shook the offending paper, as if that would help rattle it into simplicity. The sheet itself actually held a list of the most common life support machines, each with a brief description and accompanying picture for easy identification. Or so Gilbert hoped.

He was off to go see Matthew, thinking maybe he would try figuring out what exactly was going on with the clutter of machines surrounding his bedside.

"So I think it looks like you have this one..." he mumbled to himself. Gilbert's eyes remained fixed on a particular image for a brief moment. "And probably this one, too." Another picture. "Hmm, anything else? Let's see..."

"Hey! Move out of the way!"

Gilbert startled up from his cheat-sheet, eyeing the oncoming gurney with momentary surprise. His steps faltered. Quickly coming to the conclusion that in a battle of strength, he would regretfully lose to the metal bed, Gilbert scowled and moved aside. The man pushing it, an older orderly by the looks of it, shook his head and mumbled something uncomplimentary under his breath as he passed by.

Gilbert toyed with the idea of responding with something equally uncomplimentary, but found that he really didn't care. He had better things to go do.

The stairwell to floor two was quiet in its usual emptiness, and Gilbert hummed to himself as he took the stairs by leaps of three. "Look at me, off to learn some medical stuff about little life support machine things. Ludwig would be so proud."

He wasted no time making his way down the upstairs hallway, finding the desired door and walking in as per what was slowly becoming the usual.

"Hey there Matteo, how you feelin' this fine day?"

The first thing Gilbert realized was that Matthew was once again in his typical position. Flat on his back under the covers of the hospital bed. Gilbert grinned.

"Oh hey look. You _did_ move again. Awesome job, bro. This is great." He pulled his chair from his earlier visits up next to the bed's metallic frame. "Or, you know, someone moved you back like that. Again. But whatever. You're still doing good."

Gilbert plunked down in the seat, giving Matthew one of his pointless smiles before bringing his sight to the sheet of paper. "So I brought this cheat-sheet of life support machines with me today," he said conversationally. "Won't do you much good, I know, but I thought I'd get a little heads up on the stuff that's keeping you alive." He nudged the bed a little in a friendly way. "So what do you say, hmm? Impressed with my initiative? 'Cause I sure am. This ain't even part of my classes yet. I guess I'm just awesome like that."

That said, Gilbert leaned back in his seat and held up the paper in front of him. He was fully intent on using the small picture diagrams to figure out which machines his comatose buddy had, and then maybe reading whatever description applied. No sense going through the _entire_ list. That was just a waste of time.

Gilbert started with what jumped out at him the most.

"Okay, well that thing coming outta your mouth definitely looks like an air thing." Gilbert sat there for a moment, comparing his picture to the real thing. Finally nodding his head in resolution, he shifted the chair closer, taking a moment to peer at the tube passing through Matthew's lips. If he listened closely, he could hear the soft, steady whoosh of oxygen moving through it. The tube was no wider than his thumb, and it winded away to one of the larger machines on the other side of the bed. "Yup. All right, that's a..." He looked back down at the sheet of paper. "...mechanical ventilator. Hmm. Okay. Cool. The breathing machine." Gilbert hummed noncommittally, the brief description mentioning something about positive pressure and lung capacity. Shrugging lightly in incomprehension, he moved to the next thing of interest.

"Right, so, you've got these nose tubes, too, which look uncomfortable as hell." Gilbert stood up this time, tracing the thinner line with his eyes back to its pump-like machine. "Ah yes, my arch-enemy, the pump thing." It was still roughly in the same location as last time, closer to the bed thanks to Gilbert's movements from the previous evening. "So what exactly are you, pump-thing? Not a ventilator, obviously. But, um..." He matched the cheat-sheet's image with machine. "Aha! A feeding tube. And a weird name to boot. Na-so-gas-tric. Yeah, weird. Whatever. It's a feeding tube." Gilbert leaned over Matthew as he took a closer look at the machine across the bed. It seemed to hold a place for bags of nutritional formula or maybe medicine. "Okay, that looks… complicated." He debated over actually moving to the other side of Matthew to get a better look, but eventually decided against it. It wasn't like he'd understand how it worked regardless of how close he got. Shrugging, Gilbert's gaze travelled back down to the man on the bed.

"Man, it can't feel good to have these tubes and things coming outta ya'." Gilbert huffed as he leaned back, giving Matthew one last look before returning to his seat. "But hey, at least they're keeping you in the land of the living, right?"

He spent the next few minutes reading over the short descriptions of the other few life support devices he spotted cluttered around Matthew. There were the IV lines for fluids and medicine (easy, he's worked with them before), a Foley Catheter for bladder functions (Gilbert stopped reading the description almost as soon as he'd started it), and an EKG machine that monitored the heart's pulse (simple enough, most patients have one).

"Jeez Matt, this is a lot of stuff you've got going on here." Gilbert stretched out in his seat, placing the paper on the ground beside him. "And I'm probably missing a few features here and there, too. Though I gotta say, from what I see, it _looks_ like I got everything." He leaned closer to Matthew, peering once again at the wire and tubes that were visible. After a minute, his gaze shifted to the man himself, taking in Matthew's pallid skin and too-still face. He tried for a brief moment to visualize the other awake and smiling, but the image refused to fully materialize. Grimacing at his own failure-of-an-imagination, Gilbert leaned back against his chair.

"Well I suppose that's about as much as I can do about the life-support machines you've got there. I'll admit they were little more complicated than I had thought, but I guess that's to be expected. Most things are." He laughed a little, tilting his head so that he could peer at the list on the floor. "I guess I could _actually_ read up on all those things attached to ya' do, but whatever. At least I got a clue now, right? That might help in the future…"

The following silence didn't feel wholly uncomfortable, but Gilbert found himself wanting to continue speaking anyway.

"Yeah, okay, I guess it wouldn't _really_ help – I mean woohoo, I know that thing's a heart monitor, congrats Gil - but hell, it's not like I got anything better to do. Who knows, it _might_ actually come in handy one day. Maybe. If there's like, an emergency. Or something." Gilbert rolled his eyes, and decided that it was due time to change the subject.

"You know, I think it'd be really awesome if things turn around for ya'. Like the good way. The waking up way. Not the, uh... other one. Yeah, no. That'd be- yeah. That." Gilbert shook his head, trying to get his thoughts back on track. "But yeah, waking up. Because that'd be totally awesome, right? You'd get better, finally get outta this hospital, and then, well..." He paused, small frown in his face. "Well I don't know. Go live your life, I guess. That's what would come next. I don't really know about your family, but at least you'd be okay. If, you know, you still had all your abilities and everything... Which I suppose is kind of unrealistic..."

Gilbert blinked, thinking, but then immediately scowled.

"You know what, let's _not_ think about all that stuff. Too complicated. Too messy. Let's just focus on the waking up part. Okay? Small steps." He glanced over to Matthew, almost as if expecting to see him blinking in wakefulness. He was, of course, still asleep. "Right, well I guess that was a bit much hope for. Whatever. Just start with staying alive, and then work your way up from there." He paused for a moment before another thought came to mind. "Oh, and hey, just so you know, if you _can_ hear me, feel uh, free to move a finger or something. Give me a sign. Like they do in those movies. Thought I should mention that. Yup." He popped the 'p' of the last word, watching the other man with an odd kind of melancholy. The room seemed emptier than it had been a few minutes ago.

Gilbert blinked a couple of times, trying to shake off whatever it was that had fallen over him. Only partially succeeding, he shrugged and went to stand up.

"So yeah, I guess that's it for today, bro. Not much else to do here, and I kind of really got to get back to work." His foot brushed the forgotten sheet of paper on the floor, and Gilbert pursued his lips as he bent down to pick it up. "I'll take this back with me, I suppose. Not like you need it, right?" Gilbert stood there next to the bed, eyes travelling over to the life support machines that he now knew quite obviously kept Matthew alive. "But hey, if you ever wanna figure out what those contraptions next to you are, feel free to ask me. All you'd have to do is wake up and say something. Don't want to have read this for nothing, right?" He waved the list, trying to recapture some of his previous vigour. Instead he found himself caught on his earlier thought of Matthew's future.

Gilbert knew, realistically, that Matthew couldn't stay like this. Not for ever. He was a state of suspension, caught between two alternatives. And the truth was that of he didn't start showing some signs of recovery soon, things would start to get messy. Life support was expensive, and although Gilbert wasn't an expert in such things, he had seen a few families have to make that ultimate choice during his period here at the hospital. It wasn't pretty. Not for the patient, not for the family, and not for the doctors in charge of the process.

And if Matthew did start recovering… well… It wasn't like how it was shown on TV. There was no miraculous revival. No bam, suddenly they're awake and talking and getting ready to leave. That didn't happen. It never happened. The best you could hope for was a long and arduous rehabilitation process that would last over a few years with the chance of maybe, just maybe, returning to fully functional state of being.

But a patient in Matthew's state, having been comatose for more than a month… the chances of recovery were surely dwindling into tiny specks. Gilbert didn't quite know what the exact numbers were, but he knew they couldn't be good. Matthew was walking a road that shrunk with every step he took. Eventually he would run out of room to continue.

Gilbert closed his eyes for a moment, sealing off that line of thought. He wasn't part of this, so he shouldn't really have any business considering the outcomes. Why did he even care, really? It wasn't like he was the doctor in charge or anything. And he surely wasn't a friend of the patient.

Hell, the patient didn't even know him.

Opening his mouth to continue speaking, Gilbert found he felt oddly at a loss for words. Swallowing, he nodded his head once. "Okay, well. Yeah. I'll be off now." He took a few steps backwards before turning his back on Matthew.

The door knob was already in his grasp when he found himself hesitating. It felt wrong. Leaving like this. Gilbert frowned at the thought, wondering why.

"Oh. Umm. Yeah..." He turned his head to look back into the quiet room. This was the first time he had gone to leave without saying something about visiting again. "I'll uh, try to stop by again. Maybe. When I have time."

Shaking his head, he practically forced himself out of the room. He felt awful, and he just didn't understand why.

"Must be some new hospital cleaner they're using 'round here," he mumbled, striding down the bright hallway.

It was going to be a long day.


	6. Somber

**Eh, not sure how happy I am with this one. But I think it's got some good dialogue, and it's pretty long compared to most chapters I write, so hopefully that will appease you all. Please feel free to leave a review, it's always a pleasure reading what you have to say, and I appreciate the chance to get feedback on my writing.**

**I'm also moving headlong into finals, so wish me luck!**

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The next week seemed to pass at a snail's pace. It was the equivalent to torture for Gilbert, who had been reduced to reluctantly spending his breaks and lunches in the staff designated break-room at the hospital. He by no means enjoyed it, but he couldn't stand to spend more time than necessary in the monotonous consistency of his work stations. Despite what he tried telling himself - that 'no, he was not _avoiding him'_ - Gilbert kept finding reasons to not wander down specific hallways or stop by certain rooms. Today's lunch was no exception.

He had not gone back to see Matthew since that last, dismal visit.

And after one too many agonizing breaks spent in the company of boring, stuck up hospital staff, Gilbert finally felt ready to snap.

"Then I told her about my trip to the Caribbean," a younger surgeon drawled. "And wouldn't you know it, _she_ had been there that year as well."

Gilbert made sure his yawn was heard by everyone in the room. When that didn't deter them from their god-awful conversation, he gave up the cause as lost and turned his back on the small group of rich, uptight staff members. He was truly thinking of just forgoing the break room altogether, free snacks be damned. It's wasn't like he ever conversed with his co-workers anyways. He would be better off wandering the halls again, stealing lunches and hitting on pretty female orderlies. And if the free snacks were really that important – which they were – then his strategy should have just been to run in, grab the platter of triangular sandwiches, and book it out of there. None of this stopping to socialize thing. Screw that.

"And of course there was this cruise ship I went on a couple years back-"

Gilbert couldn't hold it back at that point. He outright snorted. His blatant show of disrespect got a couple of looks, mostly annoyed scowls, but he couldn't care less about what others thought of him. All he knew was that he couldn't stand in here any longer. If he did, he would likely start badmouthing the others in his usual vulgar fashion. And then Ludwig would probably hear about it. And Gilbert really didn't feel up to defending his freedom of speech against his brother today.

Or any day, really. Gilbert rolled his eyes.

Ignoring the stink-eyes he was getting from some of the more easily offended staff members, Gilbert grabbed one last sandwich-triangle and left the room.

He didn't really have a plan in mind. There were only a handful of minutes left to lunch, and although he wasn't keen on the idea of returning early, Gilbert figured he didn't have much in the way of other options. He would probably go back to his useless wanderings come afternoon's fifteen minutes of freedom, but other than that, he didn't really know what he was going to do.

He could maybe, _maybe_ visit Matthew again... But no. It would pointless. Wouldn't it? That's what Gilbert had figured out on his last visit. That Matthew, who obviously didn't know who he was, would not benefit from his presence at the bedside. That he would either get better or he wouldn't, and nothing Gilbert did was going to affect that outcome.

So why bother spending his time there? All he would do develop connections that would never be reciprocated, regardless of whether Matthew ever woke up again. A fruitless friendship. A waste of time.

Gilbert sighed, wondering when he had become so pessimistic. Was he really going to let this kind of pointless thing bother him?

He tried convincing himself it didn't bother him.

Scowling – he seemed to be doing that a lot in the past couple of days – he set off in the direction of the Emergency Room. He was on pre-appointment evaluations today. An under-appreciated job if there ever was one.

He kept his head down and remained unusually silent as he navigated the halls. ER was on the other side of the building. Maybe he wouldn't be as early as he thought.

He wasn't expecting to run into Ludwig.

But run into he did. And in the most literal sense of the fashion. As his brother steadied him with an outstretched hand, Gilbert attempted to school his face into a nonchalant smirk, deciding that perhaps striding through the halls while looking flat at the ground wasn't the best idea he had ever had.

"Luddy, what's up man? Sorry I didn't see ya' there. You're just so easy to miss, you know?"

Ludwig blinked, looking Gilbert up and down before slowly removing his hand from his shoulder. "Gilbert," he said simply, still looking at the other with an assessing eye.

Gilbert maintained his grin. "Yup, that's my name." After a moment, he started shifting his weight from foot to foot, peering subtly over Ludwig's admittedly taller shoulder. The encounter was starting to feel oddly stagnant, and Gilbert decided he didn't like the way Ludwig was looking at him. His brother could always seem to tell when something was up, despite Gilbert's best attempts to bury everything in a layer of bullshit. This was beginning to feel just like that. "Well, nice talkin' to ya." In that case, regardless of whether something was indeed _up_, Gilbert settled on just bailing out of there. "Good chat. But you know how it is. I gotta go-"

Ludwig stepped backwards, stopping Gilbert's not-so-subtle attempt at slipping past him. A small frown was creasing his brow, lips pursed unhappily. Gilbert glowered, opening his mouth to tell Ludwig off for stopping him, but his brother beat him to it.

"What's wrong?"

Gilbert faltered, not expecting the direct, no-nonsense question. Whatever he had been about to say died on his tongue. Regaining his mental footing, he averted his gaze from Ludwig's questioning stare, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Then, heaving a dramatic sigh, he gave him the best I-don't-know-what-you're-talking-about expression he could manage.

"Uh, nothing." Gilbert cringed internally at his own words, hating how uncertain they sounded. "Seriously, I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just trying to get back to work." That next couple of sentences came out a bit better, except for the nature of the words, which involved Gilbert and work and actual productivity. Ludwig, unsurprisingly, didn't look convinced.

"Bruder," he said sternly. "Please don't lie-"

"There's nothing wrong," Gilbert stressed, irritation starting to seep into his words. His way down the hall was still being blocked, and Gilbert was never one for patience.

Ludwig held back a sigh at the interruption. "Please don't lie to me," he tried again. "I can tell you right now that you're not fooling anyone."

Gilbert suppressed the urge to look around and instead rolled his eyes. "All right, let me say this one more time. There. Is. Nothing. Wrong. I really don't have any fucking idea what you're talking about." He then took in their position in the middle of the hall, blocking a good portion of the free space." Look, we're taking up the hallway, okay? So I'm just gonna continue on my way. So again, nice talking to you, and bye." He turned his shoulder to Ludwig, expression carefully nonchalant. He was planning to get by this time even if he had to use force.

A hand gripped his upper arm, pulling him aside. Gilbert grunted in surprise, protesting loudly against the treatment. "Hey, whoa! Not cool, bro. Lemme go." He struggled uselessly for a moment, the grip tightening to the point of pain, before finally managing to tear his arm from the grasp. They had relocated to the far wall. He turned angrily on his brother.

"What the fuck was that for, Lud!?" His words were harsher than he had intended, but he didn't stop to calm down. "Trying to rip my damn arm off?"

Ludwig blinked once but didn't look fazed by Gilbert's resentment. "Stop yelling, Gilbert. This is a hospital."

"Yeah, I'm well fucking aware that this is a hospital. Is that why you thought it okay to damn nearly dislocate my shoulder?"

"Gilbert..."

"Oh don't 'Gilbert' me! I'm the older brother here." He breathed heavily for a moment, wondering why he was getting so worked up over this. This wasn't like him at all. And Ludwig was clearly noticing. "This is fucking ridiculous," he said finally, more quietly. "I'm done here. I don't care what you have to say. See ya'."

"You've stopped visiting Matthew."

Gilbert stopped mid-step, not even having gotten five feet away from his brother. Exhaling sharply, he turned to look back over his shoulder. "What did you say?" Maybe he had heard wrong.

Ludwig sighed, looking at Gilbert with just a hint of confused concern. "That comatose patient, Matthew Williams. You've stopped your random visits to see him."

Gilbert turned fully back around, frown darkening his features. "Okay, two things. First, why the fuck do you know what I have and haven't been doing? And second, what the hell does that have to do with anything?"

Ludwig was silent for a moment, seeming to take in Gilbert's stormy features and irritated voice. "It's no secret that I keep tabs on you in this hospital," he finally responded, answering his brother's first complaint. "After that incident with the surgery unit, you know as well as I do that the staff here make sure to tell me what you've been doing, regardless of whether I want them to or not."

Gilbert rolled his eyes, remembering when he had accidentally wandered into an open surgery after being mistaken for an assigned assistant. It irked him that even months after, he was still being kept under watch. "Okay, whatever," he grumbled. "I've been visiting this Matthew dude, you caught me. But like I said, what does that have to anything? Why do you even care?"

Ludwig's eyes rose slightly in surprise at the appended question, but he quickly returned to his typical stoic mannerisms. "Well since you asked, I am your blood related brother and genetics seem to suggest that would cause some kind of emotional bond towards you and your well-being, but that's beside the point."

Gilbert's snort of derision of was ignored as Ludwig continued. "But you're wondering why I brought the Williams boy up?" He looked away as he said this. "You can't pretend this isn't what's wr-"

"Okay look," Gilbert cut in, having moved back closer to where his brother was standing. They were still in the middle of the hallway and he didn't really feel up to letting the entire conversation be broadcasted to those around them. "I don't know why in Gott's name you think Matthew is important, but that isn't- he doesn't have anything to do with me. He's just some damn patient."

Ludwig sighed quietly. "And you're sure about this...?"

"Of course I'm fucking sure about it. It's not like I know the guy or anything." Gilbert crossed his arms over his chest, wondering where the hell Ludwig though this conversation was going.

His brother nodded his head curtly. "Good," he said simply. "There's no sense getting attached to our patients, because that's all they will ever be – _patients_." Ludwig made to turn away from Gilbert, but then stopped, obviously deciding to add in one last thing. "It's an occupational hazard, Gilbert. We can't save them all."

Gilbert's brow furrowed. "Sorry, what?"

"Our patients. You're still fairly new to this, and I wanted to make sure you knew not to get attached." Ludwig's face remained passively blank. "That Matthew Williams, there's really no point in trying to become his friend now. I'm just glad you understand that."

Gilbert couldn't help but be a little taken aback. "Understand what? I thought-" He tried to retrace the conversation in his mind. "Weren't you concerned that I _stopped_ visiting Mattie?"

Ludwig looked genuinely confused. "No, I'm pleased you ended the visits by yourself. That you understand why we shouldn't make a habit of getting too invested. I was concerned that I would have to talk you out of it."

"So you _don't_ want me to spend time with Matthew?"

"It's not your responsibility, Gilbert. To be honest, I don't know why you bothered in the first place."

Gilbert was feeling oddly torn. Ludwig's reasoning was exactly why he had stopped visiting in the first place, but it was almost as if he had wanted his brother to argue against him. "But... Fuck. Weren't you worried something was, ugh, wrong with me?"

Ludwig titled his head, looking perplexed by Gilbert's behaviour. "Well it was easy to tell that something was bothering you, but since you've stopped your visits this past week, I'm assuming it was because you realized the reality of Williams' situation, am I correct?"

Again, spot on. Gilbert couldn't stop a scowl from twisting his features. "And you came to talk to me just to make sure? Was that really fucking necessary?"

"I shouldn't need a reason to catch up with my brother."

"If by 'catch up', you mean 'drag across the hall and hound with useless questions', yeah." Gilbert snorted, adding in air quotes for emphasis. "But seriously, was it really necessary? It's not like I was becoming buddies with a man on fucking death row. Why should you care if I had chosen to continue visiting him?"

Ludwig frowned. "You _do_ know the condition Williams is in, right?" he asked slowly.

"Of course I do," Gilbert scoffed. "He's in a coma."

"Persistent Vegetative State," Ludwig corrected. "And quite possibly brain dead."

Gilbert remained silent, posture stiff. Ludwig took that as a sign to continue "He hasn't responded to any stimulus in over two months-"

"He's not dead," Gilbert abruptly cut-in, not really knowing why he felt compelled to defend the younger comatose patient. "Mattie, he... he moves and, and he listens, okay. He's not dead."

Ludwig blinked, looking a little surprised, but then shook his head. "You have to understand the situation, bruder. You know that life support is expensive, especially for prolonged periods of time. And there's always a high demand for organ donors. If he isn't already a registered donor, they will try to appeal to his parents..."

"His parents don't even take time to visit the guy!" Gilbert's voice rose in volume, and he got a couple displeased looks from the stream of passing hospital goers. He didn't care. "They don't give a shit what happens to him."

"You don't know that-"

"Yes I fucking do," Gilbert cut in again, even though no, he really didn't. He didn't know anything about Matthew or his family. He could only hazard a guess from what those patient records had told him. "And... And fuck, _organ donors_? Fucking organ donors? Matthew is still alive, damn it. Why are we talking about slicing him up to give to other shitheads?" Gilbert ran a hand through his bangs, feeling unexplainable stressed.

"Williams is a few weeks away from being declared officially brain dead," Ludwig retorted simply. "And it's not 'slicing him up', as you so eloquently put it. It's utilizing the organs someone no longer needs in order to save other people's lives." That previous look of confused concern had returned to his features, and Ludwig stared at his brother quizzically. "You told me you didn't care about him. Why is this bothering you so much?"

"I don't-" Gilbert bit back the word 'know' from that confession, not willing to give his brother that much ammo. "I just don't like that you're talking about a living person like they don't even care. Like they're already dead."

"I just wanted you to understand the situ-"

"Yeah," Gilbert spoke over the other's words." I understand it loud and clear. Just..." He sighed and shook his head. "Whatever. Fuck this." Tossing his hands up apathetically, he turned away from his brother. "I am beyond late now, so thanks for that. They are never gonna believe it wasn't my fault."

Ludwig, gratefully, seemed to also let the conversation drop. He grunted at Gilbert's words and went to reach into his pockets for a slip of paper. "Here, I'll write your supervisors a note..."

"Oh, god no. Don't do that." Gilbert didn't bother turning back around. "It's not like it's anything new. I'll be fine."

He waited for Ludwig's reply, but upon not receiving one, Gilbert shrugged and set off down the hall. Out of a sense of requirement, he raised one hand in a weak goodbye, but didn't look to see if it had been acknowledged.

His newfound melancholy didn't dissipate by the time he reached the ER, and it remained a constant presence throughout the rest of the day.

And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't for the life of him get Matthew Williams out of his mind.

Gilbert marked it off as yet one more reason why he probably wasn't cut out for the medical profession.


	7. Supporting

**Happy Holidays, everyone! I wish you all a merry whatever-applies-to-you. Here, have a long chapter.**

**Also, a warning, I guess. Hungary makes an appearance. She also might continue to make small appearances here and there during the story. I just want to say right here that there IS NOT going to be anything between her and Gil, okay? Nothing more than maybe friendship. So please no freaking out.**

**Read, review, enjoy.**

* * *

Gilbert stared at the white, unassuming door for what felt like a long time. In his mind, the minutes were piling up into hours, and it was starting to feel like perhaps his feet had been cemented to the ground. He couldn't figure out why he wasn't moving.

In reality, it had probably only been a couple of minutes. But it was early in the morning – at least by Gilbert's standards – and the time he spent standing there was starting to amount to what Gilbert considered too much.

At least he could attribute that weird lead-like feeling in his legs to the early hour. He probably couldn't move properly because he wasn't fully awake yet.

Gilbert shifted his weight and ground his teeth. He hated when he found himself doubting his own resolve. He had decided late last night – perhaps after one to many beers – that he'd come back and see Matthew. He didn't know if it was because he wanted to resume the random stream of pointless visits, or if it was because he wanted to fully and conclusively stop the whole thing, using this last visit as the final goodbye. All he had known upon waking up that morning, groggy and irritated, was that he was going to force himself to get here early. He wanted to make sure he'd have enough time for whatever shit it was he felt needed to be done so that he'd no longer be plagued by that wretched 'depressing' feeling.

That plan didn't seem to be working out too well. Gilbert found that out when he had turned the corner at the end of the hall and suddenly found his footsteps faltering and his mind filled with useless excuses.

"Okay Gilbert, are you really this fucking pathetic?" he mumbled to himself. "Aren't you supposed to be Captain Awesome? 'Cause you sure as hell ain't acting like it now, standing outside of this goddamn door, talkin' to yourself like you should be in one of 'em _other_ kinds of hospitals. Fuck."

Taking a deep breath, Gilbert pushed aside all those thoughts and stepped forwards, grasping the cool doorknob in a firm grip. "Right, so, here goes nothing." Then, with on last push of mental resolve, he twisted the knob and finally stepped through the door.

Habit immediately kicked in and Gilbert opened his mouth to say some kind of inconsequential greeting, but for some reason the words got stuck before they made their way out. Instead, Gilbert was left standing there, small frown on his face, staring at Matthew's back.

The patient had once again moved (or been moved) to a different position. He was on his side facing away from the door. Gilbert huffed a little, and then found his feet moving him to the other side of the room. He grabbed his chair as he passed it and carried it along with him.

"Hey Matthew," he managed to say as he sat himself down across from the other man. He took one good look at the pale face before turning his head away, eyes fixed on the window which showed the cold autumn sky. "I... I know it's been a little while, and I mean, you probably didn't notice it." For some reason Gilbert hoped Matthew hadn't noticed it. "But you know, I had, uh, things I was doing. And... I was busy. So yeah."

He gritted his teeth as his gaze flickered back over to Matthew. Despite the obvious lack of reaction, and regardless of the fact that the guy probably couldn't even hear him, Gilbert felt a morsel of guilt eating away at him for his excuses.

It came as a bit as a surprise when it suddenly became a little too much for him. And really, who was he kidding? There was no one here to impress.

"Okay, fuck," he exclaimed, tossing his head back and crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm being so fucking unawesome right now. Look, the real reason I stopped visiting is that, I dunno, I guess I realized that you're probably gonna die." He breathed out harshly, feeling foolish for his confession, but a little bit better for speaking truthfully. "I didn't want to have spent all this time only for you die in the end, you know? It's like, if you don't make it, it's going to suck, but at least if I don't know you that well, it'll suck less. For me. 'Cause I won't really have any connection to ya' or anything." He drew a hand through his hair. "Jesus Christ, I sound pathetic."

Gilbert's eyes travelled from the unexciting ceiling back down to where Matthew lay, taking in his willowy features and too-prominent skeletal frame. The man was wasting away, even with the artificial nutrition and medication.

And Gilbert realized that was what he had failed to see – refused to see – on his first few visits here. Matthew wasn't just pale, he was a sickly white. He wasn't just fragile looking, he was skin and bones. This wasn't just something superficial, some inconvenient condition.

Matthew was dying.

Gilbert allowed his tense muscles to relax in the following silence, wondering about how it must feel to be in Matthew's situation. "But you know, it's really gonna suck either way," he found himself saying, words and tone surprisingly light for the turmoil he was feeling inside. "I mean, regardless of what I do – if I stop coming to see ya', or if I don't. The whole dying thing is gonna just plain suck."

Gilbert played with the hem of his uniform as he continued, eyes on his hands.

"And it took arguing with my stupidly uptight brother for me to understand that. That right now, your situation sucks. And it doesn't really seem to me that you got anyone on your side." He raised his gaze to the man on the bed, feeling like he suddenly had some purchase on slippery slope of confusion and gloominess he had been sliding down the past week or so. "So I've decided, Mattie, whether you like it or not, I'm gonna stick with ya'. Maybe my awesomeness will rub off on you or something. Give ya' that little kick you need to wake up. And if that doesn't work, there's always my fucking brilliant humour and personality." Gilbert leaned forward and grinned, reaching out to give Matthew a friendly pat on the shoulder. "So don't worry bro, I got'cha covered."

Across from them, the handle of the door turned with a click, door swinging open to reveal a humming nurse. Gilbert froze, hand still resting on Matthew's arm, looking up across the bed at the person now standing still in the doorway, a look a wary surprise on her face.

Not knowing what else to do, Gilbert smiled. "Hey there, how's it go-"

"What are you doing to my patient?"

The smile faltered but stayed in place. "I'm talking to him. You know, like normal people do?" He forced himself not to roll his eyes at the woman's unfriendly behaviour, pulling his hand back from Matthew's shoulder.

She took a few steps into the room, leaving the door open behind her. "I wasn't told he had a visitor at the moment."

"I'm his friend. I come here to talk to him."

"He can't hear you. He's in a coma."

"Yes, I'm perfectly aware of that, thanks. But we're buds, okay?" Until he could determine exactly what was going on, Gilbert settled on being abrasive, but not outrightly rude. "I'm keeping him company. There's nothing wrong with that. And anyways, what are you doing here?"

The woman paused a few feet from the bed, still looking a Gilbert warily, but with less hostility. "I take care of Mister Williams' physical needs. I have been since he was first admitted here." She paused for a moment. "And I've haven't seen you around before. But, judging from your clothes, you work here, right? So I suppose..." She seemed to come to some sort of conclusion, standing up a bit straighter and offering her hand to Gilbert. "Name's Elizaveta Hedevary. Nurse to Mister Williams."

Gilbert blinked few times at the sudden change in behaviour before reaching across to shake Elizaveta's hand. "Gilbert Beilschmidt. Intern. Mattie's friend, kinda." He shrugged, sitting back down. "You're his nurse?" he repeated for confirmation.

She nodded her head, suddenly all business. "Yup, I've been looking after him since he came outta that awful surgery to fix up his shoulder and head a few months back. I cover him twice a day, mornings and evenings." Placing the clipboard she had been holding down on the side desk, she started puttering around the room, checking machines and replacing fluid bags. "And what about you? You say you're his friend? I haven't seen you around before. And like I just said, I've been here a while. Oh, can you hold this for a second." She handed him a clear IV sac, which Gilbert held more out of principal than anything. He watched with a raised eyebrow as the nurse unhooked the old bag and tossed it aside. "So what's the story then?" she asked, turning back and snatching the new bag from his hands, hanging it in the recently vacated spot and reconnecting all the lines.

"The story?"

"Yeah. About you and Mister Williams. Are you really friends?" It was asked a bit skeptically, but not with any unkindness.

Gilbert scoffed. "Well yeah." He paused then, noting Elizaveta's doubtful look over her shoulder as she pressed a few buttons on the mechanical ventilator. "I mean, I come visit him when I can, but sometimes I can get caught up with work and things." He didn't deign to say what 'things' were, but he was acutely aware of his reason to visit this morning and his uncertainties over the past week. "It's just that comas suck, you know, so my bro here needs some awesomeness to lighten things up."

"I'm sure he does."

"You better not be discountin' my abilities, 'kay? Mattie totally appreciates my efforts." He stuck out his tongue for good measure even though Elizaveta was facing the other way. Gilbert had figured in this brief discussion that this woman seemed chill enough for at least a little bit of banter.

She turned around to face Gilbert, a curious glint in her eyes. "So you knew Williams before the accident, then? How's he like?"

Gilbert pursed his lips, shaking his head. "Uh, actually, funny enough, no. I didn't know him. So I don't really know what he's like, but he seems like he's be a pretty cool dude, you know."

She titled her head to the side, giving Gilbert a dubious look. "If you've never actually... How does this friend thing work with you?"

"It's complicated." Gilbert wondered if she'd press the matter. "Call it a personal project. Just trying to help a guy in need."

Elizaveta stared at him for a moment before seeming to drop the subject. "Okay, I guess. Too bad though." She moved on to the last life support device, making a quick note of Matthew's heart rate on her clipboard before coming back towards Gilbert. "I would have liked to have known someone who met Williams before the accident. Other than his parents, of course. Only talked to them once. A weird couple. Always seemed a bit lost whenever I mentioned their son." She put her hands on her hips. "And did you know he has a brother? If it hadn't been noted in Williams' files I wouldn't have been the wiser."

"Wait, you met his fucking parents?"

Elizaveta frowned. "Yes. Like I said, they were a bit on the strange side when it came to their children."

Gilbert was standing up now, vying to get as much information as possible. "So you know the fuckers-"

"Why do you keep swearing?" Elizaveta interrupted, having stopped writing on the clipboard to look fully at him. "Is there something wrong with Williams' parents that I missed? I thought you said you didn't know them. They seemed for the most part normal. Just somewhat distanced from their children."

"Their kid is in the hospital and they're not even here to look after him. I think there's something pretty fucking wrong with that, don't you?"

She shuffled her feet, looking a little taken aback. "Well I don't quite know what the situation is, but like I said, they were pretty distant. I think Williams and his brother were adopted, and at a late age, too. You know how that is. It's hard enough for parents to connect to teenagers that they themselves raised, let alone ones that they only just met." She moved over to his side of the bed, where Matthew was facing.

"I'm not trying to defend them or anything," she relented as she stopped next to him. "I think they should be here as well, regardless of how long a recovery takes, but I just don't think it's right for you to get on someone's case about a situation you don't know the full details of." She shook her head, putting on a bit of a lighter tone. "And anyways, they're still paying for his health bill, so at least there's that."

Gilbert rolled his eyes, not liking being told off, but not willing to lay too much into this nurse in case of being demanded to leave. "Yeah, well, they're still assholes to me." He had just gotten the conviction to continue visiting the guy, he couldn't risk having that taken away now. "Them and that brother of his."

"Yes, well if I'm being honest here, you seem like the kind of guy who considers most people around him to be assholes."

Gilbert snorted, deciding to let the subject drop for the time being. "What can I say, it's hard being this awesome sometimes."

Elizaveta rolled her eyes, but continued to humour him. "Right, and I'm to assume that it's a kind of awesomeness that only awesome people can see, right?"

Gilbert grinned. "You know, you're not too bad. Thought you might be one of em' uptight sticks in the mud like my brother, but so far you're doing all right."

"I'm glad I passed the test," she retorted. "Now look, I have to finish with my morning tasks here. I've still got another three to go after Williams. So if-"

"Can I ask you a question," Gilbert interrupted, fully intending to follow through regardless of the answer he got.

Elizaveta looked a little miffed at being cut off, but hummed in accession anyway. "Yes, what?"

"Why do you call him Williams?" He motioned in the direction of the bed. "What's wrong with the name Matthew?"

She quirked her head to the side, obviously not expecting the nature of the question. "Well it's because, I suppose, that I was taught never to get too attached to my patients." She shrugged as if this was obvious. "I've found one way of doing that to be by calling them by their last name."

Gilbert opened his mouth to retort, but found himself remembering Ludwig's warning about attachment. It actually seemed to be the norm in this line of work to stay distanced from those around him. He shook the thought away. "Oh, right. Well whatever. Just wondering."

She gave him a brief quizzical look before shrugging again. "Okay, well since you're still here, and because as I've said, I've got other patients to attend to, want to help me finish up withy morning tasks?" She turned towards Matthew. "First I've got to move him back onto his back."

"Wait, that was you who kept switching 'round his positions?"

"Yes. We have to keep them from getting bedsores." Elizaveta shifted the thin blanket down past Matthew's waist, placing her hands on his shoulder and upper leg. "Every morning and evening, we move or help move comatose patients to a new position. We also have to brush hair, brush teeth, help clean- you know, the usual tasks. There's typically family members around to help with that kind of stuff, but well..." She trailed off, looking up to Gilbert who was standing there, eyebrows raised. "Anyway, I can do it all on my own, but I have spent a lot of my allotted time talking to you. So if you'd want to help, that would be great. Just things like keeping his hair out of the way, you know."

Turning back, she gently pushed Matthew onto his back, quickly and efficiently fixing the blanket around him and pulling it back up to his chest. Matthew didn't so much as stir at the movements.

Gilbert shook his head, trying not to feel disappointment at the fact that Matthew hadn't been moving on his own. If he were to be truthful, though, he was actually feeling a bit overwhelmed by the amount of information this nurse woman was giving him. He thought he had handle on this whole comatose-persistent-vegetative-state thing, but the past quarter of an hour had just gone to show how much he was really out of his league here. Elizaveta was treating everything with a professional kind of composure, and Gilbert found himself feeling a little like a kid who had wandered into the wrong section at a department store.

Finally realizing that Elizaveta was likely waiting on him for an answer, Gilbert painted a quick grin onto his face and crossed his arms over his chest. "Yeah, sure. Sounds like a party." He was actually a bit surprised at his agreement to help, but knew he couldn't very well sit by and continue to be useless. "I'm not that big of jerk, now, am I? Holding back hair: I've got ya' covered."

She smiled. "Great, thanks. I'll just be right back."

Leaving through the open side door – Gilbert could see that it was a small washroom – Elizaveta quickly returned with a hair brush, toothbrush, and toothpaste in one hand and a glass of water and tissue paper in another. "I'll do his teeth first, so all you have to do is keep his hair out of his face. Oh here." She handed him the glass of water. "Can you hold this too. It'll make it easier for me. Thanks."

Gilbert tried to keep the small frown off his face, but she obviously noticed his discomfort when she dipped the toothbrush in the water "Yeah, it's a bit weird, isn't it?"

"Hmm, what?" Gilbert drew his attention away from Matthew and over to the nurse.

"This. It's weird, right? Almost uncomfortable, having to preform basic needs for someone who should be capable of doing it themselves." Elizaveta reached over to gently grab Matthew chin, pushing away his lips to access the teeth. "Hair," she commanded, not even looking in Gilbert's direction.

Gilbert grunted, but quickly moved to the other side of the bed, trying not to look too hesitant when reaching over to swipe Matthew's hair away from his face.

"Oh you can do better than that," Elizaveta said, seeming almost amused by Gilbert's actions. "It's not like Williams cares, and you did say you were good to help."

"I'm fucking working on it, jeez." Gilbert held back a sigh and focused on brushing the rest of Matthew's hair back with what he hoped was a gentle hand, gathering it and tucking the strands behind the patient's ears. "And it's not _that_ weird..." He watched as Elizaveta finished the bottom few teeth, eyes following her hand as she grabbed the wad of tissue paper to clean the teeth and around Matthew's lips. "Okay, fine, it is a little strange. But whatever, right? It's got to be done."

"Exactly," she replied, putting aside the toothbrush and tissue. She gave Gilbert an appraising eye. "It's nice to see someone else who understands. Lot of the friends and family members around here would get defensive when we first bring up the subject of personal care of unconscious patients. It's as if they seem to think they're protecting the patient's privacy or integrity or something. Really they're just hindering our treatment."

"No, it totally makes sense to me, though I guess I hadn't really thought about it before." Gilbert shrugged, watching as she started to brush the ends of Matthew's hair. It was quick and efficient, the strands not seeming too tangled in the first place, likely because Matthew didn't move all that much. "Though I kinda gotta admit that I'm a bit disappointed that it was you moving the guy around all this time. I thought Mattie had been moving by himself, you know. That he was recovering." He didn't know what had compelled him to reveal that, but he was caught a bit off guard when Elizaveta turned to him and smiled.

"Well it's true he hasn't been moving around by himself," she said. "That's a bit much to expect at this point, but he there have been some signs of recovery over the past couple of weeks. Here, you'll probably see for yourself in few minutes." And with that Gilbert watched as she started what seemed like a series of odd little tests.

First she crouched next to him, up close to his head. From there it was nothing more than asking Matthew in a loud, kind voice if he'd like to move for her. There was no reaction. Then she grabbed her pen and placed in his upturned hand, again asking if Matthew could move and grasp the object. It was all very polite, Elizaveta showing none of the frustration that was slowly building up in Gilbert, but it was clearly not a success.

Finally Gilbert figured that it would probably do no harm to speak up, weird tests or not.

"What are you doing?"

"GCS observations. Procedures that record motor response, verbal response, and eye movements. I've just done a couple of the more basic ones." She took hold of her pen and placed it between Matthew's eyebrows. "Now this is going to look a bit painful, but trust me, it is one of the tests."

Gilbert cringed as Elizaveta pressed the pen tip into the soft skin and twisted. It did look painful. And Matthew must have thought so as well. Gilbert's eyes immediately widened when he saw the other man's arms twitch, muscles extending, brow creasing in an obvious reaction.

"I know, right?" Elizaveta had turned to him, eyes positively sparkling. "And you probably couldn't see it from there, but his eyes definitely moved under his eyelids. It's not the full opening that the next grade requires, but it's surely something."

"That's awesome," Gilbert said, crouching closer to Elizaveta and Matthew. "So this is totally a sign of recovery, right?" He reached out to poke the other man's arm, hoping to recreate the reaction, but Matthew had returned to his abnormal stillness.

Elizaveta nodded her head in response to Gilbert's question. "Oh yes, of course." She looked at Gilbert various attempt at poking with a raised eyebrow, finally reaching out to stop him. "He's only reacting to deep painful stimuli right now, so you can stop that." Shaking her head, she stood up straight. "But yes. A definite improvement on his old GCS score."

"Oh, that coma scale thing." Gilbert joined her, placing his hands on his back and stretching slightly. "Yeah, I think my brother mentioned that. Wasn't Matthew at a three or something?" He looked down at the other with an almost fond expression.

Elizaveta regarded him with an amused kind of smile, not that Gilbert noticed. He only looked her way when she answered him. "Maybe then, but now? Goodness no, I'd say he's about a four now, maybe even five if we're lenient with that eye movement part." She started gathering her papers and clipboard, making a few notes in what was likely the results of the tests. "And this is all considering the fact that he still has a feeding tube in. We can't even assess his verbal response yet." She looked up at Gilbert. "But hopefully that'll change soon."

"Yeah, totally." Gilbert couldn't help the grin that was overtaking his features. It looked like things weren't so bad after all. "Hey," he called out, noticing that Elizaveta was getting ready to leave. "That was pretty cool, all the stuff you did. So yeah, just thought should know that."

She stared at him quizzically for a moment before laughing slightly. "You're welcome. And I've never really had an audience before, so that was also an interesting experience."

Gilbert spread his arms comically. "What can I say, I'm an interesting kind of guy."

"I'm sure." She smiled and turned towards the door. "It was nice meeting you Gilbert. I'm certain I'll see you around again sometime soon."

"Ditto."

Gilbert didn't need to see her face to know she had rolled her eyes. She reached the door and quietly left, clearly hurrying off to her next patient.

"So Mattie," Gilbert said, easily falling back into the habit of speaking out loud in the silent room. "Look at you, getting all better and shit." He turned back towards the bed where Matthew lay. "And to think I almost left you alone. Jeez, what a mistake that would'a been. I bet you've been getting better just so you can finally meet me for real, right? Awesome, bro."

He still had a little over an hour until he even needed to start thinking about getting ready for his shift. Settling back down into his seat, he propped his feet onto the side table and titled his head towards Matthew. "Seems like you're stuck with me for a little while yet." He hummed sociably. "So you know my brother, right? Well there was this one time..." Fully prepared to spend the hour chatting away, he dove straight into a story about himself, Ludwig, and this energetic little Italian that Ludwig had met.


	8. Strengthen

**Hey, I had hoped to get this up for the new year, but alas, I'm a little late. Hopefully the bit a development in this chapter will make up for it.**

**So one of you asked about my chapter titles. I tried to reply, but sadly you wouldn't allow PMs. So I'm replying here. The reason the chapter titles all start with 'S' is because I'm the kind of loser who notices that the first two chapter titles I chose had a common theme (they started with S, herpderp), and just decided to run with it. (I'm kind of regretting it now, but I've dug my grave, so I gotta lie in it.) **

**Oh, and I don't own any of these people. I'm just letting them play around in a hospital, okay?**

* * *

In the end, it took another three visits for Gilbert's appearances to coincide with another of Elizaveta's check-ups. In that time, he had managed to witness a handful of other signs that Matthew was getting better – the latest being the best. Sitting next to Matthew, chatting away about his day's chosen topic, Gilbert had said in his rhetorically fashion, "what do ya' think, Mattie?" and Matthew's eyes, for a brief moment, had actually flickered open.

He hadn't managed to see much more than that, grabbing onto Matthew's arm, eyes wide in excitement. The other man's lids had quickly drifted shut, nothing more than a small blip in the consistency that was unconsciousness, but Gilbert had been thrilled.

"You're doing awesome Mattie. Keep it up man, this is great."

He had hoped perhaps for a repeat performance, maybe even something a little better. Gilbert found himself caught on the idea of wanting to know what Matthew's eye color was, or how the other man's voice sounded. He wondered if today he could say something that made Matthew actually wake up.

When he walked into the room after the end of his shift, the late afternoon sun just barely visible through the windows on the hospital's west side, Gilbert was only a little surprised to see Elizaveta tending to the other man. Twice a day, he had remembered her telling him the first time they had met, and Gilbert had figured it was only a matter of time before their schedules aligned again.

Gilbert wasn't shy to admit that he had been curious after first meeting the female nurse. He had wanted to know exactly what it was that she did – if there were any other major tasks that had been glossed over during their brief conversation in Matthew's room. It had taken only a little effort to find Ludwig when that desire had struck him, ignoring his brother's displeased expression as he had prodded him for answers about tasks regarding comatose patients. Twice a day, Ludwig had echoed. And at this hospital the rounds were set for a shift in the morning, before the 9:30AM crowd, and one at night, just after visiting hours finished. Gilbert had pestered him for more information, most of it falling into the same category as what Elizaveta had told him that first day. Hygiene care, consciousness tests, and in the afternoons, cleaning and muscle exercises.

"Exercises?" Gilbert had latched onto the last thing Ludwig had mumbled at him, forcing his brother to elaborate.

"Things like moving the patient's arms and legs. Putting the bed into a more upright position. Forcing extension and contraction." Ludwig had finally turned to face him, face set in what seemed like a perpetual frown, ignoring for just this brief moment the work behind him. "It's to help prevent the muscles from getting too atrophied and weak. The procedure differs depending on the patient's level of consciousness."

Armed with that knowledge, Gilbert had been more than happy to skip merrily from his brother's office, the high he was riding still going strong from his newfound conviction. It had only been Ludwig's quiet but authoritative "Wait bruder," that had stopped him in the doorway.

He hadn't turned around, but he did award his brother with an exaggerated sigh. He was certain Ludwig had nothing too important to say, maybe a reminder about Gilbert's hours or reprimand about his work ethic.

"You've started visiting Matthew Williams again."

It had been delivered in the form of a straight forward, no-nonsense statement. But somehow Gilbert had still felt the discontentment emanating from those few words. He knew Ludwig's stance on the matter. He also knew that Ludwig had wanted to discourage him from the whole thing altogether.

Gilbert had no intention of letting himself get convinced that he had chosen wrong.

And so, for perhaps one of the first times that he could recall, he had backed away from the clear invitation to argue with his brother.

"You're right," he had replied, simple and not with any of his usual obnoxious flair. "I have." And with that he had stepped through the door, stopping Ludwig's retort before it had even had a chance to begin.

Shaking off those thoughts, Gilbert leaned against the door frame, grinning widely at Elizaveta and Matthew. "S'up guys! How are ya' this awesome afternoon?" he called out in greeting.

Elizaveta looked up at him, gently pacing the pale, thin arm she was holding back down next to its owner. "Oh, Gilbert, hello." She stood straight and placed her hands on her lower back. "Good. It's going good. Matthew's good too."

Gilbert strode into the room. His chair was over next to the female nurse, and as he made his way over, his gaze took in Matthew's sleeping form.

"Yeah, he's looking pretty awesome. Gettin' better every day." He tugged the chair closer to the bed, flopping down gracelessly and shooting Elizaveta a smile. "What kinda test things are you doing today?"

"Oh, well I'm actually just finishing up here. But it's muscle movements and strengthening." She shrugged as she reached back down grasped Matthew's shoulder, other hand securing his elbow. "I mean, the strengthening bit is a tad difficult without conscious patient cooperation, so it's mostly movement, but well..." She titled her head to the side as she started moving the man's arm in gentle rotations. "I was taught to work with what I've got."

Gilbert watched the motions with some curiosity. "So what, you just move limbs in circles and shit?"

"Well it's certainly part of it," Elizaveta replied with a roll of her eyes. "But no. There's a set list of movements to complete and muscles to exercise. Like here–" She took a moment to tap Matthew's shoulder. "I'm stretching out his deltoid and stimulating the rotator cuff and surrounding tendons."

"Right… those." Gilbert knew from minimal amount of classes he had taken over the past years that the terms related to muscles and joints. It all sounded important. He shrugged apathetically. "Is it difficult?"

"The movements? No. Can be a little time consuming though if you keep having to go back to list as reference. And it gets more complicated once the patient starts moving on their own." Seeming to finish, Elizaveta placed Matthew's arm once again back on the bed, fixing the covers around the blond man. "But I haven't needed the movement list for two years now. I got it all up in here." She tapped her forehead. "The entire procedure really. Tests and everything." She held herself proudly at that, and Gilbert awarded the pride with an amused snort.

"Must be why you've got such a big head."

"Wha- No. My head isn't big."

"Have you looked in a mirror recently? It's huge," Gilbert assured with mock seriousness.

Elizaveta sighed in exasperation, turning back towards the bed. "Yes well, at least I know what I'm doing around here. Some people's brains are obviously lacking key knowledge of the jobs they _should_ be doing." She shot Gilbert a meaningful glare.

"Hey, you don't even know what my job is."

"You're an intern! You told me so yourself when we met. You probably write out drug prescriptions."

"Fine then." Gilbert stuck his tongue out at the other nurse. "But that doesn't mean I'm shirking my duties or anything. It's totally cool to be here."

Elizaveta raised an eyebrow before shaking her head and stepping away from the bed. "I'm surprised you even know what the word shirking means." She paused for a moment as she neared the controls for the bed's position, quickly pressing a couple buttons. The front half of the bed started to rise. "Though in all honesty, I'm sure Williams appreciates the time you take to be here." She looked over at him, brow lightly furrowed. "You're certain you're not risking your job here, right? You're not skipping out on work, are you?"

Gilbert righted himself in his seat, pulling up one leg up to rest it across the other. "Do I look like someone who skips out on work to you?" He raised his arms confidently, grin in place.

"Do you really want my honest opinion on that?"

Gilbert snorted, arms falling back down onto his lap. "Yeah, you're right. Don't answer that." Shifting his position, he leaned forwards, crossing his arms over his knees. "But serious though, it's all good. My shift just finished today. I'm chilling here 'til I need to catch my bus. I've got like twenty minutes."

Elizaveta smiled. "Good. I was hoping that was the case."

"You were?"

"Yup. I'm actually running a bit behind, you see." She picked up her clipboard, which had been resting on the little side table, and gestured towards Matthew. "I've done all the main tasks, and everything is set for the evening, but I'm a little stressed on time. It's the last bit of the night routine that always gets me."

Gilbert blinked. "Which is…?" he prompted.

"Oh, nothing too big. The patient just needs to be moved into a more upright position–" Gilbert noted that Matthew already was. "–and be exposed to an aurally and visually stimulating task for ten to fifteen minutes. I usually pick TV." Elizaveta motioned to something above and behind Gilbert, and Gilbert turned his head, humming in vague surprise when he spotted the thing television screen in the top corner. He had never noticed that before.

"Do you think you'd be okay to do that?" Elizaveta continued behind him.

Gilbert turned back around, eyebrows quirked in an expression of amused uncertainty. "Okay, lemme get this straight. You want me," He prodded himself in his chest. "The lazy intern, to sit here with my bro Mattie for the next fifteen minutes as part of one of your comatose task things?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm asking. Do you have fifteen minutes to spare?"

"Uh, yeah. Totally. But really though, you're trusting me with this?"

Elizaveta tilted her head to the side. "Is there reason not to?"

"Of course not," Gilbert immediately defended himself. "It's just that, well." He hesitated for a moment before finishing the statement. "It's just that people don't often trust me with important tasks. Don't know why not, I'm the freaking master of all things awesome, but yeah. It's like that. Also, you barely know me."

Elizaveta grinned sheepishly. "Well I wouldn't quite classify this as an important task – I mean, I know people in my department who just skip it altogether, not that it's recommended. And you've done nothing to disprove the fact that you're Williams' friend." She pressed her clipboard up against her chest, clasping her hands together around its back. "It's just like I said, I'm short on time here. And if you wouldn't mind…"

Gilbert noted the pause, knowing it was where he was supposed to assure her that all was good in the hood. He smirked. "Heh, well since you've pleaded for the assistance of the awesome me, I guess it's my duty to comply."

Elizaveta rolled her eyes, but her lips quirked upwards in relief. "Thanks, this really does help me tonight." She then quickly stepped over to where Gilbert was still sitting. "Basically what you're going to need to do after the ten-fifteen minutes are up is to put the bed back to an even level and then move Matthew onto his left side."

"I have to move him?"

"Yes." She looked over to Matthew briefly before returning her gaze to Gilbert. "Are you good with that?"

Gilbert hummed noncommittally, wanting to be jaunty and assertive, but instead feeling the weight of responsibility for someone who he might kind of actually care about. "Yeah, I'm fine. Anything else?"

Elizaveta smiled, already moving towards the door. She seemed to sense the change in Gilbert's behaviour. "Yeah, just make sure you remembered to turn off the lights before you leave. Other than that, you're fine to stay however long you want." She gave him a quick wave as the opened the door. "One of the quirks of working here. Goodnight, Gilbert."

"Ah, 'night." He brought up a hand in a late return, but she had already left. Gilbert, looked back over to Matthew, who lay still in his bed, thin blankets pulled up around him.

"Hey buddy. Just you and me now, ain't it."

He inched his seat a little closer to the other man so that they were essentially side by side. Leaning back and relaxing, he peered over to his silent friend.

"So you usually watch a little TV every evening before bed, huh? Guess what man, I do the same." Gilbert's eyes travelled over to the blank screen up in the corner. "Got a couple of shows I'm following pretty damn religiously, too. They just appeal to my kind of awesome, you know. And how 'bout you? Have you got any shows you were watching regularly? I bet you're pretty damn put out that you fell behind in them, am I right?" He nodded his head as he spoke. "Don't worry Matteo, we'll get caught up in them just as soon as you wake up. In the meantime, you'll have to settle for listening to my soothing voice and maybe some useless jabber from that TV up there on the wall." He looked back across the room.

"Hmm, right. Think I should turn it on for you?" He started a half-hearted search for the remote, hoping he wouldn't have to get out of his seat to turn on the device. "I mean, you really should go turn it on yourself instead of having others do it for you, but I suppose for today I can help a bro in need. Just means that I expect ya' to be able to provide for yourself in the near future, okay? You better not disappoint me."

Gilbert quickly came to the conclusion that there either was no remote or that it was hidden in a place far away from his and Matthew's reach.

"Which is just stupid," Gilbert mumbled to himself as he pushed himself up from the plastic chair. His feet crossed one another as he walked over to the corner of the room, keeping Matthew in his sight. "What if you woke up, Mattie, and wanted to watch a little television. I know I'd want to." He stopped underneath the screen and searched for the tell-tale power button. "But guess it seems like you're outta luck. Good thing you got captain awesome here to help save the day." Having found it, he reached up and turned the television on.

Grinning when the device blinked into life, Gilbert turned back to the other man. "There you go," he said over the soft mumble of voices and sounds that came from the TV. "Something bland and mind-numbing to stimulate your hearing, or whatever. You still got me, too, which I think you'll find is a far more awesome choice." He laughed in a self-indulgent manor and returned to his seat.

"You know," he began after a few moments of watching the flickering screen. "I don't care what other people say. I think I'm really gonna like you when you finally make it to the land of the conscious." Gilbert kept his eyes resolutely on the TV, the words he hadn't really known he was going to say suddenly demanding to be spoken out loud.

"Like, I don't care what the normal way of getting to know someone is. I never do anything the normal way anyways." Gilbert's attention drifted to Matthew for just a brief moment before jumping back over to the screen. "I mean, not to say that I wouldn't have loved to have gotten to meet you on normal terms, traumatic brain injuries aside. It's just that the whole comatose thing you got going on there kinda made the normal bit impossible. No offence.

"But you know that's not gonna stop me. I still like you. We can do the normal way of getting to know each other once this is all behind us, right?" Gilbert nodded in answer to his own question. "Right. And I think it's just pretty damn awesome that you're still alive and fighting despite all the shit that's happened. I mean a fucking car crash? That shit's intense. But you're just here chilling like you got a bad case of I-don't-wanna-wake-up. You're like sleeping beauty, Matt. Maybe all you need is a little kiss."

Gilbert's gaze returned to Matthew, eyes flickering over the other man's figure for perhaps just a little longer than usual. Shaking his head, he laughed aloud, the abrupt noise sounding a little forced in the silence of the room. "Heh, yeah. I'll get right on that for you. Do ya' have any particular fancy, Matteo? I know some pretty good places where we could go scope out a couple candidates." Despite the grin that pulled at his features, a hand still came up to rub the back of his neck self-consciously. After a moment, Gilbert forced his attention back to the flickering screen.

"Anyways, what I was trying to say is that I'm gonna be here through thick and thin, alright? I've kinda figured that I'm too awesome to let a guy like you go through this shit alone, so you're just gonna have to put up with me." Gilbert stretched out, legs straightening in front of him and crossing at the ankles, hands coming up to cushion his head. "And if you turn out to be some kinda asshole when you wake up, then there's going to be shit to pay, you hear me? I don't wanna have to spend my highly valuable time straightening out your fucked up attitude so that we can be awesome bros together. I mean I'll do it if I have to, but how 'bout we just don't head down that path, 'kay? Okay. You look like a nice guy anyways, so I'm sure there'll be no problem."

He relaxed in the near-silence of the room, offhandedly watching as various nameless characters puttered around on the TV. He could just barely hear the whir of the various life support machines, and Gilbert decided that the noises were actually oddly comforting. In the back of his mind, he hoped that the day would never come when he would have to hear the hums and beeps stop because of a failing heart or fading brain waves. If the machines have to stop, it would be because Matthew was recovering and no longer needed their assistance.

Gilbert sighed and allowed his eyes to close, just enjoying the feeling of camaraderie that permeated through the room. Like this, he could almost imagine that Matthew was awake and aware next to him, that the two of them were just sharing a friendly moment of silence between conversations.

The sound of the door opening startled Gilbert into opening his eyes. Straightening, he twisted around to look at the entryway.

"Ludwig?" Gilbert blinked, lips soon quirking upwards as he grinned in his little brother's direction. "Hey bro, what's up? Didn't think I would see you here."

Ludwig exhaled deeply at Gilbert's words – or perhaps just at his presence, Gilbert couldn't quite tell. Shaking his head minutely, Ludwig stepped into the room, letting the door fall shut behind him. Gilbert frowned, something prickling at the back of his mind. This didn't quite seem right.

Pushing the bad feeling aside, Gilbert stood up, trying to ignore the fact that Ludwig hadn't replied to his greeting. It wasn't abnormal, but the way that he was looking at Gilbert made Gilbert just a little uneasy. "So what brings you here, hmm?" he pressed innocuously. "Thought you had another few hours left to your shift. Didn't you say that you were tied up 'til like midnight? You giving your superiors the slip?"

Ludwig pursed his lips, and Gilbert could see his eyes travel from him to Matthew and back. Finally, he spoke.

"I thought I would find you here, though I will admit that I had hoped I would be wrong."

"Ah, that spiel again. Yeah, I get it, Luddy." Gilbert rolled his eyes, crossing his arms in from of his chest defiantly. "You're gonna have to come up with something far better than your _disappointment_ to make me leave Mattie alone."

Ludwig paused for a moment, but didn't address Gilbert's words. "Bruder, Williams' parents just got in contact with the hospital."

Gilbert blinked, not liking the tone of his brother's voice. "Yeah, okay. Awesome. But so what?" His eyes flitted down to where Matthew continued to rest before coming back up to the other man. "They wanna get back in touch now that Mattie's finally starting to recover? The fuckers."

"No," Ludwig replied, a flicker of surprise just visible in the crease around his eyes. But then he blinked, and that odd expression returned to his face. "No. Gilbert, they… Williams' parents, they want to…"

He trailed off for just a moment, eyes drifting away from Gilbert's face. Gilbert frowned, but remained silent as Ludwig continued.

"Gilbert, I'm sorry, but they're going to take Matthew off life support."


	9. Survive

**Well the format gets a little weird near the ending of this chapter, but that's how this story wanted to be written, so I guess I complied. Or something.**

**Anyway, this chapter was hard to write. Lots of Gilbert acting not Gilbert-like but still needing to be in-character. If that makes any sense. Basically I did the best I could.**

**Oh, and thank you so much for all the support and reviews and favorites this story has gotten. It really makes my day when I see that someone has enjoyed my writing. Keep being awesome, guys!**

* * *

"What do you fucking mean, taken off life support!? You can't be serious."

Gilbert practically chased his brother down the hall, having finally shaken himself out the sudden and inexplicable silence that had befallen him when he had first heard the news. He'd had just enough presence of mind to flick off the television, return Matthew's bed to its original level, and carefully manoeuvre his friend onto his side before rushing out of the room. In that time, Ludwig had already reached the end of the hall, and Gilbert found himself jogging to catch up, calling out to him in anger.

"No, get back here you asshole! You need to fucking explain!"

Ludwig remained silent, seeming to ignore Gilbert's efforts to get his attention, focusing instead on the simple task of moving down the empty hallway. Gilbert seethed, swearing under his breath as he ran the last few steps. Ludwig almost made it through the stairwell's entrance, steps noticeably quicker than his usual pace, before Gilbert pulled hastily in from of him.

"No, Ludwig. I'm fucking serious here," Gilbert gritted out, feet skidding to a stop, hands out to stop his brother's progress. "You damn well elaborate on this shit, 'cause I'm pretty sure I must have misheard you back there. What exactly is going on?"

Ludwig stopped, eyes rising to look at him with a sad kind of exasperation. "You know as well as I do what I meant. Williams' parents have decided to end the treatment." Ludwig raised his hands to ward off Gilbert's immediate rebuttal. "No, listen Gilbert. His family has long been urged by this hospital to make a decision, and they have finally gotten back to us on their answer. This isn't coming without pre-emptive consideration, and we need to respect-"

"Like hell we do!" Gilbert batted his brother's outstretched hand aside. "This is fucking bullshit. Matthew is getting better, okay? I can prove it to you."

"It would do you no good to prove anything to me. My decision doesn't mean anything in this situation."

"Fine! I'll prove it to those shit parents of his."

Ludwig exhaled slowly, brow furrowed and lips pressed in a tight line. "Gilbert," he said slowly, and through his anger and disbelief Gilbert recognized the familiar I-told-you-so tone. "This is not something as simple as that. You are not one of Williams' doctors, nor are you his attendant." His voice also held something a little less familiar; apology. "If you do have concrete signs that he is recovering, you can attempt to make your case, but bruder..." Ludwig paused, eyes travelling away from Gilbert. "This really isn't a decision you have any power in."

"I don't fucking care," Gilbert exclaimed, gesturing wildly to the door down the hall. "Matthew is struggling to get better. I can't believe they'd just ignore that and let him die, god damn it!"

"You've become attached to the patient. You might be seeing progress where there really is none, bruder."

"What are you- No." Gilbert shook his head. "Matthew. Is. Getting. Better. Jesus Christ. I'm not... Attachment doesn't even have anything to do with this! And who the fuck cares if I see Mattie as a friend or not!? I'm trying to stop a guy from getting killed. Whether or not I like him shouldn't have anything to do with it." He breathed in a large, harsh breath, averting his eyes when Ludwig looked at him, instead angling his wandering gaze down the hall to the barely visible door he had come to recognize with ease.

"I can't let you kill him," he said more softly, studiously avoiding Ludwig's stare.

They both stood in the poignant silence, and finally Ludwig spoke up. "You know it's not killing, right Gilbert?" he asked in a soft but stern voice, forcing Gilbert's eyes to flicker back to him. "That's not what is going on here."

Gilbert sighed, anger having lost its jagged edge. Instead it settled into a raw kind of desperation, something heavy and coiled that pulsed in the back of his mind. "Yeah, fuck, of course I know. It's just..." He turned away from Ludwig, trying to prevent his shoulders from curling in as he brushed his hair back with a hasty hand. "They can't take him off- no, I need to talk to them or something. I swear to god when I say that he's getting better. To just ignore all that..."

"It's been three months, bruder. You have to understand the near-impossibility of recovery at the rate that Williams is going."

"But... I don't." Gilbert turned to face his brother. "I don't understand. Why can't they just give Matthew more time? You can't tell me that three months is long enough for this kind of thing. Fuck, three years wouldn't be enough."

Ludwig blinked, looking almost a little surprised, and Gilbert realized that without the mask of anger to hide behind, his expression might be revealing just a little too much of his genuine emotions. Ducking his head down, he turned his back to his brother. "Just... Tell me, okay? Why can't they give him more time?"

He heard Ludwig sigh. "Money, resources, treatment ability. Life support is expensive." There was a small pause before he continued. "It's a huge burden on the family. And with Wil- with Matthew being on a temporary method of artificial nutrition, he'll need the surgery for the long-term intubation. His family can't support it."

"So that's it. It's down to fucking money?"

"No, not just that. As I said, it's also treatment ability. Hospitals will often want to focus resources and staff on patients with a higher chance of survival."

Gilbert felt the anger starting to return. "That's a load of bull. Higher chance of survival? How can they put value on something like that!? The only reason Mattie would have lower 'chance' is because you're gonna take his fucking life support away!"

"There's a high probability that he is already brain dead."

"I've seen him fucking move. He is not dead!"

"Then he might soon be!" Ludwig exclaimed, eyes quickly widening when he realized how loud his voice had gotten. Taking a step backwards, he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I apologize. That was... unbecoming of me."

Gilbert stared at his brother, feeling completely off balance. It felt like a pressure was building in the base of his skull. He wanted to hit something, to go back into Matthew's room and shake him awake, to find the god awful parents and force them into prolonging their son's treatment. Instead he shook his head and looked at the man in front of him. "Yeah, it was. But… You were serious though," Gilbert found himself saying, voice rough. "I mean about Matthew. About how he might soon be..." He cleared his throat. "Fuck. About him being soon dead." He straightened his shoulders and breathed in deeply. "Why?"

Ludwig sighed, looking tiredly at Gilbert. "He's been on ventilation and intubation for too long. With prolonged exposure, like Williams' case, the risk of pneumonia and infection becomes a dangerous possibility." He held his gaze a moment longer before looking away. "Even for families that continue life support, maybe with the hope of time being on their side, it often ends in the patient's death."

"So you're saying that it's inevitable that Mattie's gonna die, then? That what you've been trying to tell me? That there's really no hope."

Ludwig stared at Gilbert for a long moment before replying. "No. No, of course not. If Matthew's brain really is still functioning, he may not even need life support. The chance is slim, but he could continue to breathe unassisted when the ventilation tube is removed. In that case the hospital will be forced to continue treatment."

Gilbert blinked a few times, an odd weightlessness expanding in his chest. "So he still could be okay?" he asked, latching on to the news. He watched his brother with wide eyes, trying to decipher the answer before it came.

"If he can continue breathing on his own, then yes. There could still be a chance of recovery."

"And if not?" Gilbert wondered if his voice really came out that quietly or if he just couldn't hear himself over the odd rushing sound in his ears.

"Then he's been brain dead this entire time."

Gilbert swallowed, closing his eyes for just a moment before straightening himself up, a weak grin on his face, gaze not quite meeting his brother's. "Well no need to worry, then. I know my bro Mattie will nail that breathing thing. No doubt about it." He nodded his head and took a small step to the side, looking over Ludwig's shoulder and down the empty hallway. "I mean who needs a breathing tube anyway. Totally unawesome. You're all doing him a favour, that's what."

Ludwig's eyes followed Gilbert as he took another couple steps around him. "Gilbert..." he started, but Gilbert interrupted him.

"No. Just... Don't. I get it." He looked at Ludwig's sympathetic expression for a moment before his eyes dropped, frown overtaking his features. He hated being the object of someone's pity. "It wasn't just me, you know. Who saw Matthew move. A nurse chick named Elizaveta has seen it too. So don't give me that look. I know... I know I'm right. Matthew isn't dead."

Gilbert took a moment to breathe in before turning his back on Ludwig, slowly making his way back down the hall. After a few steps, he heard Ludwig speak.

"For both your sakes, I hope you're right." Gilbert sighed but remained silent, and Ludwig spoke up again after another beat of silence. "Your bus, bruder. You're going to be late."

Gilbert couldn't help a small, quiet laugh at that, stopping and shooting his brother a look over his shoulder. "I think I'm going to catch the later one, thanks." And with that he crossed the remaining space, opening the door that was now in front of him and gently stepping through.

He didn't see Ludwig's soft, pained expression behind him.

-x-x-x-

Three days. It took three days for the papers to be signed, the family members to arrive, and the procedure to be approved. Gilbert made sure to spend as much time as he could during those three days in Matthew's presence. Before shifts, after shifts, and on any and every break he could manage. And when he did have to work his job, it was done robotically and without any thought.

One of his co-workers – he couldn't remember who – had actually even told him that he was being calmer and more productive lately, and to keep up the good work. Gilbert had snarled at them to shut up and then promptly stomped away from whatever it was that he had been doing.

That had been the day that Matthew's parent had arrived. No sign of that brother, though. Not that Gilbert really took enough time to get a good idea of the situation. For all the bluster and talk about showing those god damn parents a thing or two about obligation, Gilbert had steered clear of the couple the moment he had figured out who they were. The sight of them, the mere thought about what they had decided to do to their own son, just made Gilbert sick.

He hated it.

He hated _them_.

It wasn't a foreign feeling to him, but it was the first time Gilbert could remember being so emotionally committed in someone other than himself. He hated that couple _because_ of Matthew. He felt almost obligated to do so. Matthew had been integrated nearly seamlessly into his life, and it was impossible to consider the fact that he could just as soon be removed, a gaping hole left in his wake.

It was a huge change in typically solitude lifestyle, and Gilbert wasn't too sure about how to handle all of it. He felt as if his happiness and spirit hinged on the outcome of someone else's life, and the concept expressed far more vulnerability than he had ever really wanted to invest in someone.

But if he were being honest, all of that didn't really matter anymore. He didn't care that he had become attached to someone else. He cared that they might be so quickly taken away from him.

Gilbert didn't go to work that day. The day they turned off the ventilator and removed the tube that provided life-sustaining oxygen to Matthew's lungs. The doctor would be at the bedside, overseeing the procedure, as would the family, but Gilbert didn't want to be there. He didn't want to know. Ludwig had assured him that he could make his case as Matthew's friend and stand next to his parents during the process, but Gilbert didn't take the offer. He refused to be associated with the people who had no right to be in that hospital, let alone next to Matthew's bed. He stayed at home, ignored the persistent ringing of his phone, and wrapped himself in the belief that all would be all right. That Matthew would live.

That Matthew had to live.

-x-x-x-

"Don't say a fucking thing." Gilbert brushed passed the orderly without so much as a backwards glance. It was early morning by anyone's standards, and he really wasn't in the mood for idle chitchat with co-workers. Or with anyone, for that matter.

Refusing to talk to anyone also served him the double purpose of avoiding learning about Matthew's condition. He figured someone was bound to try and tell him the outcome of yesterday's events, and Gilbert had no intention of hearing about it second hand. So he shut down anyone and everyone who tried talking to him. His boss, his co-workers, his brother. Anyone who so much as breathed in his direction he turned away from.

The stuffy stairwell was devoid of life at this time in the morning. Gilbert took the stairs one by one, trying to distinguish the odd pressure he was feeling in the base of his throat. Swallowing seemed to have no effect, and Gilbert quickly decided that he really didn't want to dwell on it.

Instead, as he reached out and pushed his way through the door to the second floor, Gilbert allowed his thoughts to center around the room that waited for him down the hall. He could see the door now – white, closed, unassuming, giving nothing away. It was his destination, of course. The morning after, where he could find out by himself, on his own terms and without any of those undeserving family members or doctors, whether Matthew was still alive.

Gilbert kept his eyes down as he walked, feet knowing instinctively the way to the room. He almost mumbled something aloud to himself about being pathetic or the like, but found that he couldn't bring himself to break the silence. So instead he allowed for his thoughts to run wild with the things he couldn't say.

_Pathetic, really. Acting like this._

Another few steps, moving at a pace considerably slower than usual.

_If this is fucking 'attachment', then they're right. It sucks._

He looked up. Just another few doors now.

_But he can't be dead, of course. It just ain't possible._

No turning back now. The door knob was practically in his grasp.

_And if he is, then it's all the damn parents' fault. But he's not._

The small fogged glass window didn't give a single indication of what rested past the door.

_I mean how did this even fucking happen to me. This feeling stuff and shit._

He figured there were two possible outcomes. Either Matthew was alive and asleep in his bed...

_I don't do feelings and shit. But no, find the one guy who can't even TALK to ya' and suddenly you're best buds. Fuck._

Or the room would be empty. As empty as Gilbert had thought it that first day.

_I just wish I could've gotten a chance to know him._

He didn't consider the possibility of a third option.

_Or just see him awake, even. That would have been nice._

Gilbert pushed the door open with one last breath. His eyes flickered open, having shut in some kind of preparation for this moment. The room came into focus, and his attention immediately latched on to the area across the room.

The bed didn't hold a sleeping patient.

"M-Mattie?" Gilbert froze in the open doorway.

No. Instead the bed held an upright, awake, very much _alive_ Matthew.


End file.
